The Real Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by WhereWereYouWhenIWas
Summary: Harry Potter lives in a much darker world, full of sinister intent and plotting. Will he come out the hero when all he's known is pain? This story aims to rewrite the Harry Potter books from a more serious, darker perspective. There will be more violence, adult themes, etc. This is the story of Harry Potter, with real world connotations.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is to be the first chapter in a broad rewrite of all seven books. I will be attempting to write them without plot holes, and with explanations of things that didn't make sense in the original series. I don't have a beta reader currently, so anyone who would be interested in aiding me in that aspect would be incredibly helpful. This will be a much darker, more serious series.**

Chapter 1

The Boy Who Lived

If one were to begin to ask who the Dursleys were, what they did, and how they acted; one would quickly begin to understand that there was little to nothing about the family to recommend them to the world. Vernon Dursley, the father, was a brutish, hulking figure full of anger and fear for that which he didn't understand that showed through his air of general disdain for such things. Petunia Dursley, the mother, had clung to him as if he was a lifeboat in a storm; putting up with even the most bothersome of his quirks in her crusade to distance herself from her sister's family, the only relatives left alive to her after her parents car crash. Rounding out the family was Dudley Dursley, the son. Only a newborn, Dudley had already been trained to be the self-serving, arrogant image of his parents.

Vernon worked for a company that made and sold drills, he had a large moustache and looked vaguely like a walrus with his missing neck and portly figure. Petunia's occupation was to be a stay-at-home mom for Dudley, any passions or ambitions she may have had previously in life had been driven out early on in her marriage to Vernon as she took on many of his most undesirable characteristics. They each loved their son desperately; believing that he would be the image of perfection, having been raised by the two most perfect being either of them had met.

The day was bright and sunny without a hint of a cloud in sight and the Dursleys continued on in their perfect world-hating joy inside their home at Number Four Privet Drive. Dudley sat in front of the television screaming at various animated characters as they darted across the scene. Petunia was busying about in the kitchen: washing dishes, sweeping the floor, and preparing food for the pudgy one-year-old. Vernon Dursley was just leaving for work. Stopping for a moment to kiss his wife and survey his immaculate house.

The sunny day was unmarred by want or worry in the minds of the Dursley family.

As he pulled out of the driveway in his black Dodge Mustang, Vernon Dursley saw something that struck him as being quite peculiar. There on the corner of Privet Drive was a small tabby cat sitting and reading what appeared to be a map. Vernon stopped the car and looked back toward the corner to see the cat sitting with no map. Confused, he muttered to himself that he had been thinking far too much about his business meeting later that day and quickly sped down the road to work.

While on his daily commute to his workplace, Vernon noticed not the several owls swooping over Little Whinging, nor did he see the many cloak-clad figures wandering the street. Vernon was lost within his own mind, oblivious to the world, and unworried about the worrying things around him.

Though the day was far from normal, Vernon neither saw nor heard anything strange until eating lunch at a local delicatessen. While tearing into a Reuben sandwich, Vernon heard someone behind him say "What do you know about him? This _Potter_ boy? Have you heard what he did? Little Harry Potter?"

Vernon spun around in his seat to look at the speaker, only to see a couple wearing long cloaks of emerald and purple. Their lack of propriety and clear rebellion against social dress standards infuriated him. The couple was middle-aged and grinning from ear to ear. A young boy of no more than three or four stood at their knee, staring directly at Vernon Dursley.

"Yes, Amos, remember I met the Potters at Hogwarts? They were just young ones then, but I still knew them."

Vernon was speechless at the mention of the name Potter. He was almost certain that his wife's sister had married a man with the last name Potter. And he thought that their child had been named Harry. He took a step toward the trio before the young boy began to pull on the violet cloak his mother wore. She looked at the child and asked quietly, "What is it Cedric?" before looking up to see Vernon standing in front of her.

"May I help you, sir?" Amos asked Vernon, a note of caution in his voice.

Vernon remained standing before them, "What was that name you said? Something Potter?" he questioned.

Amos shot a glance at his wife before responding "Harry—Harry Potter. Have you heard of him?"

Vernon shook his head stiffly, trudged off to the door, and left without a word. _Harry?_ He thought. _Was that the name of the Potter boy? _He turned the corner on the sidewalk and began immediately ascending the stairs leading to his office. _No, it can't have been_. Vernon tried to convince himself. _I just recognized the Potter name and assumed._ He spent the rest of his work day attempting to convince himself of this very wrong supposition; telling himself repeatedly that the boy wasn't named Harry, but Frank or something else. Anything but _Harry_.

Still a tabby cat sat outside of Number Four Privet Drive watching the mother and son coming and going throughout the house. Her sharp eyes took in every movement of the pair. Watching, and waiting.

Vernon Dursley rounded the corner leading to Privet Drive and became angry when he discovered that the small, yellow cat that he had seen when he left was still sitting not far from his house. He approached it and attempted to shoo it away. The cat fixed him with a hard look and bared its teeth. Vernon looked at the cat as if it was from another planet and muttered to himself about how the world was on its head.

Upon entering the house, Petunia quickly began to complain of the heat and how they needed a new air conditioner, following her husband into the kitchen when he left the entrance hallway. Vernon attempted to fend off her arguments but, in his distracted state, was unable to keep up with the conversation and ended with a grudging "I'll look into it."

Petunia nodded and said, "Now, dear, I'm sure you've heard, but the next door neighbors are adding a bathroom and third bedroom onto their house. We must be sure to tell them that they must be sure not to cause noise while Dudley is asleep. We wouldn't want him losing his precious sleep."

Vernon nodded seriously, his mind elsewhere. "Yes, I suppose we must." He prepared himself a small sandwich before plopping himself on the couch and absent-mindedly watching the cartoons still playing on the screen.

After Dudley had been put to sleep, Vernon changed the channel to the evening news and was joined by Petunia on the couch.

"Bird-watchers report that a startling amount of owls have been seen today, despite their generally nocturnal habits." The news anchor babbled out. "Owls have been seen at the wing all across the country, going in every direction, and that's not the only oddity of the day! There have been reports of fireworks being set off en masse throughout the day and night…" the news anchors voice faded into the background as Petunia asked "Vernon, is something on your mind?"

"What was the name of your sister's husband?" Vernon asked suddenly. "And their son?"

Petunia gave him a vaguely disgusted look, "Why would it matter what their names are? They have nothing to do—"

"Just answer me woman!" Vernon cut her off angrily.

Petunia paled and sank into the couch a small amount. "Potter, her husband's name was Potter. And their son was Harry."

Vernon nodded. He had known as soon as he had heard that group of freaks say the name. He wanted to deny it, but he knew then. He looked at Petunia, "I heard a group of people wearing strange cloaks talking about a boy named Harry Potter in the city today." She gasped.

"Do you think it's one of their kind?" He asked with trepidation.

"It couldn't be." She said immediately. "They're all about staying secret."

Vernon nodded grimly. "Must just be a coincidence." He said. "Harry Potter has to be a fairly common name." Petunia nodded and announced that she would be going to sleep. Vernon continued to sit on the couch, staring at the television screen, but not seeing.

Outside, the tabby cat sat staring at the house. Suddenly a man in a blue robe appeared as if from nowhere. He was old, tall, and thin; with white hair and a matching beard stretching nearly to his waist. He wore a pointed hat and held a wand in one hand. The tabby cat looked up at him, almost as if he was a party guest who had arrived late. Suddenly, the cat lurched forward and its form shifted to that of an older woman in a black robe. She stared at the old man with a stern look.

"Dumbledore," she said slowly. "You have certainly taken your time getting here."

"I have arrived exactly when I meant to, Minevra." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "I see that you have arrived early. What are your thoughts from your observations?"

"You must tell me again why this boy must live with these horrible muggles." Minevra said. "They hate us, everything about us. I fear for the boy if he must stay here. That horrible Dursley child already strikes his mother and he's only a babe! What will he do to someone his size?"

Dumbledore nodded, but said, "Ms. McGonagall, this is the only way that this boy will continue to be safe. If we put him anywhere that is known to Voldemort's followers, he will die. There is protection here."

"But if we contacted the ministry they could place protections around whatever house the boy is placed in!" McGonagall said angrily. "They could—"

"The ministry is corrupt. You know that very well Minevra." Dumbledore interjected. "Just yesterday you were convinced of this option. What has changed?"

"They are horrible, horrible people, Headmaster. The boy will not be able to live the life he deserves with them. He will be changed. Every child in our world will know his name. He will be celebrated. If you leave him here, he will be away from that world. He will be no one!" McGonagall said passionately.

"That is as it should be." Dumbledore said. "He will be protected from what that kind of fame can do to a child. He will be protected from his enemies. I have written a letter explaining to his aunt and uncle what has happened. They will be able to tell him when he grows older."

McGonagall looked as if she was about to protest, but suddenly she heard a rumbling noise above her head. She looked up, only to see the streetlights all suddenly wink out, their light drifting into a device held in Dumbledore's hand. As she again looked to the sky, a motorcycle appeared out of the darkness, floating through the air. Atop it sat a man that was easily above seven feet tall with a mane of dark hair flowing down to his shoulders.

"_Hagrid?"_ McGonagall asked darkly, "You had _Hagrid_ bring the boy here?"

"I trust Hagrid with my life." Dumbledore said simply.

Hagrid landed the bike close to Dumbledore and McGonagall. He stepped off of the motorcycle and pulled a small bundle of cloth from the sidecar. "I brought 'im 'ere. Just like you asked." He said.

Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you Hagrid. Please give him to me."

Hagrid looked down nervously. "Can't I 'ave a moment? So as ta say goodbye?" He asked.

Dumbledore nodded and Hagrid looked down at the bundle in his arms. "It's time fer goodbyes now." He said quietly. "I'm sure I'll be seein' ya again. I'll tell ya all about yer parents."

Hagrid passed the child off to Dumbledore, who carried it to the front step of Number Four Privet Drive. He placed the child on the step, setting a letter on his chest.

"Until we meet again." Dumbledore said quietly. And then they disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who followed the first chapter. The more response this gets, the more motivation I'll have to update this quicker. This story will start off fairly similarly to the main books, but the major differences will quickly become clear. Things will be changed according to what seems more likely based on the characters' personalities and the rules we know of the Harry Potter world. **

**To Stromsten: Thank you for reviewing. As for what consequences there are, you'll see some differences in this chapter. As I said, the beginning of the story will seem quite similar to the original, but as it progresses, many significant changes will be made. By the time I reach the end I fully expect this story to be unrecognizable in light of the original series.**

**Finally, I own nothing of the Harry Potter world.**

Chapter 2

The Vanishing Glass

**Ten Years Later**

Harry Potter awoke to the sounds of his cousin, Dudley Dursley, screaming and banging on the door to his cupboard. While the rest of Privet Drive inhabitants held rooms furnished in the typical way: with doors, furniture, beds, and possessions. Harry's living space was confined to the small cupboard under the stairs where a makeshift cot had been placed. Harry's possessions could be summed up in three words. He had none. He had a broken cot, taken from his cousin Dudley's room after Dudley's friend Piers had purposefully cut the wires; a collection of clothing that Dudley had outgrown; and an empty stomach. Harry laid there, bruised and tired, having never achieved a peaceful sleep throughout the night, and remembered.

Harry thought back to the various times he had woken up bruised like he had today. He thought of the great variety of things that had gotten him into situations like this. The first time he had been beaten was when he had asked his Aunt Petunia where he had gotten the lightning-shaped scar that sat above his green eyes on his forehead. She had scowled and shrieked "In the car crash that killed your parents!"

Harry learned that night just what questions could cost him. Later that week, uncle Vernon had taken Harry to the hospital where he had received twelve stitches for falling down the stairs. The next time that Harry had been this sore was when he attempted to run from one of Dudley and Piers' boxing sessions with him in the school yard. He had been sprinting full speed when suddenly he was on the roof of the school, looking down at them. When the teachers found him, Dudley and Piers insisted that he had been up there throwing stones at them. When Uncle Vernon found out he had banned Harry from eating for two weeks after beating him bloody.

There were many similar occurrences throughout Harry's life that had led to him being beaten, but Harry had no time to remember them. Yesterday's pain was enough. Somehow, while Harry was locked in his closet for 'being such a lackwit', as Vernon had put it, a glass vase had shattered, seemingly of its own accord. Vernon had turned to the boy and viciously whipped him with a belt before throwing him in his room. Harry thought on all this and groaned as he rolled out of bed. Each of his arms had mottled bruising, his back was purple in several places, and the place where his face had caught an unfortunately aimed strike was swollen and painful. The thin, dark-haired boy had just stood up when the locked cupboard door was thrown open and Harry saw Uncle Vernon's severe form standing above him.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon said, "I just received a call from Mrs. Figg. She's broken her leg. You will have to be coming along with us to the zoo, I won't be having you alone in this house to wreak your mischief."

Harry held his face calm and nodded. As much as the thought of a trip to the zoo pleased him, he knew that Dudley would be furious. It was his birthday, and he had always enjoyed taunting Harry when the family left him with the old Mrs. Figg to help her garden and feed her cats while Dudley and Piers went off to participate in some form of special birthday celebration.

"Don't look so smug about it, boy." Vernon whispered menacingly. "Now get out of there and make the bacon for your aunt."

Harry stood up quickly and said "Yes, Uncle Vernon." before walking out of his cupboard and through the hallway into the kitchen. There he saw his aunt busying herself with cooking a breakfast of bacon, eggs, biscuits, and gravy. She turned when he entered the room.

"Could you move any more slowly?" She asked Harry angrily. He said nothing and quickly took over the pan containing the bacon as Aunt Petunia began to add water to a pancake mix. Suddenly, Harry felt pain bloom in his side as Dudley had thrown his weight into a quick strike under Harry's ribcage. All the breath whooshed out of Harry's stomach and he doubled over as Dudley laughed out "You little weakling. Needed to teach you to be on guard."

Vernon had entered the room along with Dudley and smiled approvingly. "That's a good boy, Dudley. Always trying to educate those who aren't as smart as you." He stood over Dudley and ruffled his hair as Harry attempted to catch his breath. Vernon looked down at him. "Get off the damn floor, boy. That bacon won't cook itself."

Petunia let out a gruff chuckle. "Remember, if you'd like to eat you must do enough work to outweigh the cost of your food. Now, Dudderkins, you mustn't lift a finger on your special day. Go out to the living room and sit down. Your favorite program is on the telly. I'll have Harry bring you out a lemonade."

Dudley shot a wicked grin at Harry and ducked out of the rectangular kitchen through the long hallway and dove onto the sofa in the living room. Harry quickly opened the refrigerator and prepared Dudley's drink before taking it out to him. Dudley took it and made a move as if to punch Harry. Harry jumped back wildly and Dudley laughed loudly. "Did you hear I'm coming with you today?" Harry asked goadingly. "Mrs. Figg broke her leg so I have to come." Even as he spoke Harry knew his words would only earn him pain.

Dudley's grin fell off his face. "Dad! Harry says he's coming with us!" He shouted whiningly toward the kitchen. "He's not is he?"

Vernon stomped into the living room like an angry rhinoceros and gave Harry an angry look. "We have no other option, I don't want him staying here where he may meddle with any manner of things."

"Why not just lock him in the closet, Da? He couldn't do anything there."

Vernon turned a shade of dark red and looked at Dudley. "Are you questioning my judgment, boy?"

"N-no!" Dudley spluttered out before Vernon cut him off.

"Good. Now let's look at your birthday presents." He said before gesturing to the low coffee table, clearly stacked high with presents between a large sheet, obscuring the overall shapes. Dudley looked at the table longingly and grinned, kicking at Harry. "Go finish my bacon."

_The last thing you need is bacon._ Harry thought to himself, looking at his large cousin, before walking back to the kitchen. He was busying himself about in the kitchen contemplating the concept that Dudley eating bacon was close to cannibalism when his aunt interrupted his thoughts.

"If you're to be seen in public with us today, you had best brush your horrid hair. I won't be having people thinking you're some urchin off the street because you refuse to make your appearance respectable."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry said respectfully. He knew that there was little to no point for him to brush his hair, but agreed with her anyway to avoid punishment. His hair had always been unruly, both of them knew that. Petunia looked at him with disdain, as if she knew his thoughts, and turned back to the pancakes she had been pulling off of the griddle. Suddenly they heard a shout from the living room.

"Thirty-six!? Only thirty-six presents!? Last year I had thirty-seven!"

"Yes, yes. But these presents are significantly bigger than last year." Vernon said in a rush.

Petunia quickly exited the kitchen and Harry heard her say "Dudley, if you'd like we can pick you up two more presents while we're out, so that way you'll have more than last year."

Dudley nodded vaguely, clearly attempting the arithmetic in his head as if calculating the force of gravity between the moon and the earth. Vernon looked down at Dudley with pride in his eyes. "That's my boy, making sure that you get what you deserve and no one pulls one over on you. You keep doing that and you'll have no choice but to succeed."

Piers arrived soon after this exchange and, after serving everyone their food at the table, Harry retreated with his food into the cupboard so as not to become the punching bag of any of the males at the table. After this, Dudley opened his presents. He received everything he had asked for: a new bike, over a dozen video games, and a pair of fighting gloves that Harry knew would be put to use on him before the end of the day.

Later, as the group left the house, Uncle Vernon pulled Harry to the side. "If you cause anything to happen that is less than desirable I'll give you twice the whipping you had last night. You don't deserve to be here, and you must be on your best behavior."

"I won't do anything." Harry said, but Vernon didn't believe him. Things just happened to Harry. Things neither of them could explain.

Once, while Harry was being punished for spilling juice onto a lace tablecloth, he had been banned from food for a week. During the night Vernon had entered the kitchen to prepare a snack and had found that two loafs of bread and a pitcher of milk had all disappeared from the kitchen. He immediately opened Harry's cupboard and found the food lying on the floor near the sleeping Harry. Harry had insisted that there was no way he could've gotten out of the _locked _cupboard, but still he had been beaten black and blue for that offense.

Vernon walked away and they all loaded into the car, pulling off toward the zoo. While on the way there, Piers began talking of a new video game that his parents had purchased him.

"It's got state of the art graphics!" he said loudly. "And you get to choose what type of creature you want to be. Some creatures have magic powers like invisibility and teleportation! There's even—"

"There is no such thing as magic!" Vernon cut off the boy. "And I'll not have you filling Dudley's head with such nonsense.

After this, the vehicle remained quiet for a time. Not long after, they arrived at the zoo. They saw one animal after another with Dudley screaming at them in the hope he would receive a response and complaining loudly to his father when none was given until Vernon began gesticulating and screaming along with the eleven-year-old boy. Petunia seemed to hold a particular penchant for the bears and had the children and Vernon screaming at them in no time.

Harry, for his part, remained completely quiet, trailing along after them. He knew it had been sheer luck that had brought him here and had no desire to tarnish his apparently lucky day with punishment of lost food or pain. Vernon bought Piers and Dudley each an ice cream and stared at Harry as if daring him to ask why he hadn't received one. Eventually they entered the house of reptiles where Dudley and Piers quickly moved off to gaze at the exotic snakes and lizards.

They stopped in front of the cage of a boa constrictor. Dudley shouted at it and pounded on the glass. He had used this method to make most of the smaller snakes react to him; even getting a king cobra to sit up, open its hood, and hiss at him. This large boa seemed far less concerned than the smaller snakes had been however, and remained stoic. Harry stood several feet away, angered at his selfishness and lack of care for the animals. When the boa constrictor refused to move Dudley turned and whined to his dad, "Make it move!"

Vernon approached the glass and wrapped on it with his knuckles, half-shouting "Wake up snake! Move snake!"

When Dudley had determined that no amount of cajoling or some such could make the snake move: he, Vernon, and Piers moved off down to the next exhibit. Harry slowly approached the boa cage as they departed.

He stared into the snake's cage as it lay unmoving while people attempted to provoke it for their own entertainment. "I know how you feel." Harry said to the snake. "Like you're locked up in a cage with nowhere to go, and everyone around you enjoys prodding you just to see your reaction. It's horrible."

The snake looked up toward him and he heard a girl's voice to his left saying to her father, "But daddy it's so lonely. It's in there all by itself and it has nothing to do. It's horrible that it's kept like this." She said sincerely. Harry looked toward the voice and saw a young girl with bushy, brown hair staring up at a middle-aged man with a pleading look in her face.

"We have to do something." She said firmly, tugging at the sleeves of her forest green pullover in rhythm with the words. "We can't just let them continue to mistreat the poor thing."

Her father chuckled. "What do you recommend we do Hermione? Storm the doors of the management and demand it be released?" He picked her up and spun her around, causing his leather jacket to flutter about like a cloak in the wind. "There's nothing we can do about it honey, sometimes you just have to accept that."

Hermione looked up with tears in her eyes. "No, I won't, dad. If no one else is going to help the poor thing then I will."

A woman standing beside the pair shot the girl's father a scathing look. "Johnathon stop antagonizing the poor girl. Can't you see how upset she is?"

Johnathon looked between his daughter and wife and the smile fell slowly from his face. He knelt down in front of Hermione. "Honey, I know you want to help. I know you wish it was different. But right now, we don't have any way to fix this. If it'll make you feel better, we can write a letter to the zoo about it when we get home. Okay?"

Hermione looked at her father, brown eyes still wet with tears, and nodded, then looked back at the snake in the cage and gasped. Harry's eyes followed hers and he saw the snake staring directly at him.

It winked. Harry looked around, wondering if he was imagining things, but everyone's eyes were focused on the moving snake. He looked back to the snake and returned its wink. The snake slowly uncoiled itself and began to move toward him.

"Get me out…"

The words drifted past Harry's ears as like the whisper of a distant instrument. He almost wasn't sure if he had heard them. He looked in the snake's eyes and said, "Was that you?"

The creature nodded and he heard the voice repeat, "Get me out of here."

Then a loud shout broke Harry from the stupor he had entered when he saw the snake wink. It was Piers. "Dudley! Dudley, come quick! You won't believe what the snake's doing!"

The fat child and the similarly fat adult ran toward the glass. When Dudley reached the glass he grabbed Hermione by the arm and forcibly threw her to the ground, grinning at the snake manically. Harry turned and saw Hermione lying on the floor at her father's feet, openly crying, just as her father looked up toward Dudley and Piers, whose faces were pressed against the glass. Harry stared at Dudley and a fierce anger rose in him. He shouted, "What are you doing?!" just as Johnathon said "Now, young boy—"

Both became quiet immediately after having spoken, for the glass had vanished. Both Piers and Dudley fell forward into the water of the boa cage and the snake rose up to slither over and past the lumps of their bodies. Harry swore he heard it say "I'll owe you one." as it passed him.

Then everyone in the room was shouting things like "Snake!" or "Run!" and Vernon was fishing the boys from the pond. When Harry looked next, Hermione and her parents were gone. Once the boys were confirmed to be safe and things had calmed down, he turned to Harry and fixed him with a look that let him know just how many levels of pain would be beaten out of him that night. He froze in fear. He wanted to run. To scream. Anything to get away from Vernon. But he knew he would only make it worse. So he stayed standing by the railing as the zookeeper apologized and repeatedly muttered "I don't know what happened."

On the return trip, Piers and Dudley never stopped telling stories of how the snake had tried to bite them, but due to their quick thinking and heroics, they had saved everyone in the zoo. Harry wished they would stop redressing the subject, but knew there was no hope of that. It would be their favorite story for months. It almost wouldn't have mattered if Piers hadn't said, "Harry was talking to it." within hearing distance of Vernon.

After Piers left, Vernon grabbed Harry by his mop of unruly hair and threw him to the ground between the kitchen and the hallway. "You tried to kill my boy!" he screamed in Harry's face. "Tried to feed him to the damn snake!"

He kicked Harry in the midsection. Hard. "Not going to waste any time denying it, are you?" Vernon said maleficently before delivering a kick to Harry's face. Harry heard a distinct crack and felt his nose crack as blood sprayed. He pulled his arms up in an effort to protect his face from the next kick, only to hear Vernon scream. "I should kill you for what you tried today, boy!"

Harry panicked. All rational thought left him and he attempted to flee. He scrabbled down the hallway frantically, reaching the door and scratching at the lock through blood-blurred eyes. He felt Vernon grab the collar of the oversized gray sweater he wore and use it to yank him to the ground.

"How _dare_ you try to run away?" Vernon said incredulously before stomping on Harry's chest, causing another distinct cracking noise. Harry reached for a nearby walking stick and swung it in the general direction of Vernon's face. It struck the portly man with all the force of a ten-year-old boy lying on the floor covered in blood, which is to say, not that much. Harry realized he had made a grave mistake when he saw Vernon stalk to the fireplace and grab an iron poker. He attempted to stand, but nearly passed out and had to clutch an end table for support.

"You would strike me?!" Vernon bellowed, clearly having lost all control. He waited for Harry to finish standing before swinging the poker into the side of his head. Harry felt a flash of pain, then everything went black.

**A/N: So that's chapter two. Obviously quite a bit different from the originals, and it will only get more so as time goes on. Please review and let me know what you think. I'm hoping I can get a decent amount of feedback on this. If you like it, let me know, if you dislike it, let me know why. Thanks.**

**Where were you when I was so cold I could see my breath?**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Letters from the Sky

**A/N: Thanks for all the follows and favorites. It's good to see this already getting some heat. Again, this story will be updated quickly if everything goes according to schedule. I'll be trying to keep up on updates throughout the entirety of the story so there shouldn't be any super long waits. I'm working on an original story at the same time as this, so that will help keep me motivated to push this forward. Also, big thanks to my new beta reader Maudlynn for picking up on this story so quickly!**

**Stromsten: I'm not sure if there will or will not be anything from Hermione's point of view. It seems likely that that could develop in later chapters, but I haven't planned for it as yet.**

**Jarno: Thank you for the review. You have to remember two things. One, Harry is still a wandless child, meaning he can't control accurately what he's doing. Two, he is still a **_**child**_**. Meaning he hasn't yet come to terms with himself. This isn't exactly a dark Harry story, more of a realistic Harry.**

**Any mistakes are mine, anything Harry Potter is not.**

Harry awoke in his cupboard, head throbbing. He began to sit up in the pitch black room until his head started spinning, sending him back to the pillow beneath him. Slowly the events leading to his unconsciousness returned to him. He reached to his face and felt for where he had been struck by the iron bar, feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen as he did so. His hand brushed over the left side of his face before traversing to the right side and feeling a large, swollen stripe stretching from the right side of his forehead to just below his temple.

Suddenly a cough wracked Harry's body and he coughed up something rough and solid which he was barely able to roll over and spit onto the floor next to him. Pressing a finger into his mouth, Harry found no cuts that would've caused him to bleed into his throat. Harry then felt toward his nose and his hand encountered dried blood below and in both nostrils, as well as a long cut from the bridge of his nose halfway to his nostril.

Harry breathed deeply, feeling the same sharp pain from the ribs his uncle had kicked. _At least I'm not dead_. He thought to himself drearily. For a moment he had thought that Vernon really would kill him. His hands moved again to his head wound and he felt it out. The entire area that had been struck was incredibly sensitive. He attempted to push himself off of his bed again, ending up in a half sitting position leaning against the wall. His head swam and pulsed with his heartbeat. Each note of his heart's music was an agony to him. Each moment of this position pressed him into a deeper pain. He reached his hand up to the strand of wire that activated his light.

He tugged. Nothing happened.

It was at this point that Harry began to wonder how long he had been in his cupboard, and how much longer he would be left there. He contemplated shouting, but when he roused his lips and tongue to form a word, his head wordlessly protested the unwanted effort, quickly forestalling any immediate attempt at speaking. Harry realized then that there was nothing for him to do but wait for the Dursley's to release him. He laid his head back to his flat pillow, closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Harry awoke again in the darkness, but something was different. He could feel a… presence. There was no other was to describe it. There was no sound. No light. No smell but that of mothballs and blood, but he could feel it. It was different. Almost the same feeling as when someone is staring at you. He reached out and around the room, but felt nothing and no one. He felt incredibly thirsty, but had nothing to drink. He moved his mouth in a second attempt to form words. "Uncle Vernon…" He said feebly. _No one would be able to hear that_. He thought, disappointed in himself. "Uncle Vernon." He tried again, a bit louder.

He repeated the words until they were almost a normal volume and jerked back when a loud thud came from the door in front of him. "You're lucky you didn't get worse, boy." Vernon said from outside the door. "You'll finish out your two weeks in there and count yourself lucky."

"Water." Was all Harry managed to get out.

Vernon laughed out loud. "There's a bottle under your bed. That's all you'll have until you get out of there." He said before stomping away.

Harry reached under the broken cot to find a gallon bottle three quarters full of water. Taking a long, desperate drink, Harry collapsed back to his bed. He still felt as if someone was watching him. The prickling sensation at the back of his neck refused to go away. He laid his head to pillow and began to drop back off to sleep.

All he thought about was somehow escaping the Dursleys. He raised his hand to his head and felt the angry welt of the iron bar. His odds of survival were low if another confrontation such as this one occurred. Vernon had been going farther and farther with his punishments, and Harry doubted he could survive anything worse than what he had just gotten.

When Harry awoke again, there was light pouring in from the open cupboard doorway. "Get up and make breakfast, boy." Petunia said primly before walking out to the living room, leaving Harry no time to respond. Harry slowly raised himself from the mattress and was surprised that his head throbbed so little. He stumbled into the kitchen and began to prepare pots and pans for cooking.

As he dropped bacon into a pan to cook, he was struck with how hungry he was. He remembered his uncle's words: "You'll finish out your two weeks…" Had he really been in there for two weeks? How could his body handle such a thing? He looked out toward where Petunia sat on the sofa, saw she was distracted, and grabbed a banana off the counter; destroying the peel in his fervor to eat immediately. Just as he shoved a piece of it into his mouth, he heard Petunia's voice behind him.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" She asked softly, her voice dripping with a falsely casual tone. Harry turned to her and held up the half of the banana that wasn't in his mouth as if to say "What does it look like?"

His aunt just looked at him for a moment and something seemed to change in her eyes as she stared down at the boy. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his forehead and back down. "You may get the mail before you finish that." She said stiffly. Harry was astonished. _No reprimand? No punishment? Did she mean finish the banana, or cooking breakfast?_ He swallowed quickly and walked to the front door, stuffing the rest of the banana into his mouth as he retrieved the newspaper from the porch where it sat. He closed the door and picked up the pile of mail in front of him before carrying it, with the newspaper, to the table where he set it down.

Harry looked over the mail quickly, not separating any of it. Uncle Vernon had always said that there was a simple pleasure in sorting one's own mail, and as such had said that he would be the only one to separate it. Harry made only a preliminary search with his eyes, but paused when he saw his own name on the front of a letter. He grabbed it from the stack and looked it over. It read:

Harry Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Number Four Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry was shocked. No one had ever so much as called the house to speak to him, let alone sent a letter. He looked down at the letter and began to tear it open; hoping to find out what was inside before Vernon did. As he opened it, Harry felt the same sense of being watched he had initially felt while inside his cupboard. He pulled the letter from its envelope and had time to see some sort of logo on the letterhead before it was snatched from his hand by Dudley.

"Harry's opening the mail!" He called out happily.

Vernon entered the room and looked at the letter. He grinned maliciously. "You know better than to open my mail, boy." He said darkly. "You may return to your cup—"

"It's my mail!" Harry interjected before Vernon could finish his sentence. "It's got my name on it."

Vernon looked at it darkly before saying, "Well I guess we'll just have to dispose of it then." Before stuffing it into his back pocket and exiting the room. Harry wanted to shout. He wanted to try and steal it. But he knew it was a horrible idea.

"Wash yourself, boy!" Vernon called over his shoulder as he exited the room. "You look like you belong on the street."

Harry remembered then that he was still covered in blood and hadn't examined himself. "Would you like me to finish breakfast first?" He asked placatingly, hoping that if he pleased Vernon he could get his letter back. Harry's uncle looked at him sharply. "You are much too dirty to be anywhere near any food. In fact, if you don't wash yourself promptly, I believe I'll have to throw you back into your closet."

Harry ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor bathroom. Throwing the door shut behind him. Harry turned on the shower before looking into the mirror. Dried blood was caked below and around his nose. The entire area where he had been hit with the iron bar was covered with it. Harry removed his clothes and inspected his chest. Somehow, there was no bruising. He had expected, from the pain he felt, that he would be bruised across his left side. But there was nothing.

Suddenly, Vernon pounding on the door woke Harry from his revery. "You best not be wasting our water in there!"

Harry heard this and immediately jumped under the running water. The heat of the water running down his skin felt indescribably good. He stared at the ground and saw the dried blood running off his body and down the drain. Harry then began to scrub it off; physically distancing himself from the remnants of his beating. _I have to get out. _Harry thought to himself. _I have to get the hell out of here before Vernon decides to kill me. I can't try to fight him again. He's too much, he'll kill me. I have to get out._

After he had finished washing his body, Harry left the shower. He looked into the mirror and investigated his face. His nose didn't seem particularly crooked, and the welt from the iron poker was significantly less severe than he had original expected. He probed it with his fingers. Although the wound was still sensitive, it was nowhere near the painful touch-and-jump operation it had been in his cupboard. Harry wondered at that.

He toweled off and left the bathroom, returning to the kitchen where breakfast was in full swing. On entering the kitchen, Harry surveyed the room. In the center of the white-paneled, pristine room was a cream-colored dinner table around which Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were arranged. The wall across from Harry was dominated by cupboards, drawers, and the kitchen sink, until it reached the far right corner where the refrigerator sat. To the right of the refrigerator was another set of shelving that stretched to the closest right corner, where the stove finished out the picture. In the far right corner, the wall remained unadorned until it reached a doorway leading to the entranceway.

As Harry entered the kitchen, he heard Vernon say, "We're just so pleased with you that you've been accepted to Smeltings! Why you know that was the school I attended, and look how I turned out."

Dudley brandished his new Smelting stick, a piece of the school's tradition for random acts of violence, and smiled at Harry as he sat down to begin eating breakfast. "Harry, did you apply to Smeltings? Or did you figure it would just be a waste of time? I mean you had to know that Smeltings is only for true gentlemen."

"I applied nowhere. I figured it would be easier to exist in a school that didn't have pompous asses walking the hallways beating people between classes." Harry responded between bites of scrambled eggs. Dudley nearly dropped his fork in surprise at Harry's response. The two adults looked at Harry, angered. He returned their looks and said, "Dudley needs some mental sparring. Good for his moral fiber. Where's my letter Uncle Vernon?"

At this Uncle Vernon became quiet. "It has been disposed of. I'm sure there are still some ashes in the fireplace that belong to it, you may try to piece them together if you'd like."

He said all this with a small smile, clearly believing that he was ever so clever. Harry nodded and turned back to his food without a word. He desperately wanted to know what the letter contained. He had never received any contact from outside Number Four, and he longed to understand who had reached out to him. The rest of the day Harry wondered what the letter had contained. A thousand questions entered his head. Who would know he lived under the cupboard? Who would want to send him a letter? Why wouldn't Vernon let him read it?

The next day, Harry exited his cupboard and began to prepare breakfast in the kitchen. He had slept fitfully, tossing and turning as his brain wandered over the question of the letter. He still dwelt on it.

He was in the middle of preparing a batch of peppered scrambled eggs when his uncle stomped into the room.

"Dudley, go get the mail." Vernon said. "I want my newspaper."

"Make Harry get it, Da!" Dudley cried in protest, holding up his Smelting stick as he shouted.

"Harry, get the mail." Vernon said without intonation.

Harry departed to retrieve the mail. As he picked up the newspaper and the letters he saw a familiar-looking envelope with his name on it. His thoughts raced. He had to hide it, had to find some place to keep it. He shoved the letter beneath his waistband, folded it, and covered it up with his shirt before attempting to walk back into the kitchen normally. As he handed Vernon the pile of papers, Vernon shot him a look. "No letters for you today, are there?"

Harry shook his head from side to side. "I didn't look through the mail. But I didn't see one in the pile."

Vernon looked back to the pile of letters and began to sort through them. When he reached the last letter in the stack, a satisfied smile broke out on his face. "Well then it appears whoever sent it has given up." He said in a satisfied manner, his eyes meandering to meet Petunia's face.

Harry's heart was beating rapidly in his chest for the rest of the seemingly-calm breakfast. Dudley devoured the food before him with his snout leaned over the plate. Vernon read his paper and drank his morning cup of tea. Petunia read through a magazine dissecting the lives of whatever famous people it was currently popular to be interested in. Harry sat, trying impossibly hard to remain normal. As soon as the Dursleys left the table, Harry darted to hide his letter underneath his cot mattress in his cupboard before returning to the kitchen to do his dishes.

He busied himself about for the rest of the day, moving from one activity to the next between meals. Harry washed the dishes. He helped prepare the food. He vacuumed the living room. He tidied the bathrooms. Finally, after the morning had been spent and the afternoon was well on its way to becoming evening, Harry was able to return to his small cupboard and look at the letter. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 01 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

As Harry read over the letter, he became short of breath. Witchcraft and Wizardry? This was unbelievable. He tore through the list of required books and equipment: _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk, _Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger, Cauldron (Pewter, Standard Size 2), Wand, etc.

If this had been a prank it was incredibly well set-up. Harry looked over the various sheaves of paper in front of him. He wanted to believe so desperately that there was something more to him. Is this how he had done all of the unexplainable things that he'd done? He felt lightheaded, and then a sudden realization struck him. It didn't matter. His aunt and uncle would never pay for him to attend this school. They wouldn't let him leave. He was stuck here. If he was smart, he would throw away the letter now and pretend he had never gotten it.

He made a move to do just that, but couldn't bring himself to crumble up the paper. Harry held a choice in his hands. Somehow he felt that if he kept the letter, the mere ownership of such a thing would change him. Make him better. Stronger. Safer. Harry neatly folded the paper before inserting it back into its envelope and sliding it under his mattress.

The next morning, Vernon gathered the mail up. No new letter arrived. There was no uproar of fantastic argument over it being burned. Vernon did not shout or scream about magic. But to Harry, the day was full of tension. He still felt as if he was being watched. He felt it in his bones. He was surrounded by the pressure of what he had read. He tried to emulate his inward change outwardly with small rebellions: small quips at Dudley that he knew he would be too dull to understand, changing things from how he had been supposed to carry them out when asked, conveniently 'forgetting' to accomplish tasks he knew belonged to him. He felt changed, he struck out for power, but found only this minutiae.

Each day he felt as if there was something in him that if he didn't let it out, he wouldn't be able to survive, but with no outlet, he was doomed from the start. Vernon returned to his normal, shouting self; Harry did his best to avoid being beaten; Petunia focused on her television and magazines; and Dudley focused on beating Harry with his Smeltings stick whenever possible.

Harry had always ran when Dudley focused his attentions on beating him, but something about his newfound boldness caused Harry to attempt to strike back. On one occasion when Dudley attempted to strike Harry in the leg with the stick, Harry turned and slammed a hand into his stomach. It was a rough slap, with little power, but it stopped Dudley in his tracks. He stared at Harry as if he couldn't believe what he'd done.

"Dad!" Dudley shouted out. "Harry hit me!"

Vernon slowly trundled into the room. "Well, what of it boy?" he said quickly to Harry.

"He tried to hit me with his cane, sir. I was only defending myself."

Vernon looked at his son. "If a fool boy like that can hurt you, you won't last a minute at Smeltings." He said disdainfully.

Dudley looked from his father to Harry and back, confusion written on his face before swinging the stick into Harry's gut and doubling him over. "He didn't hurt me, he just caught me by surprise." Dudley said.

Vernon nodded. "That's the spirit, son." He said enthusiastically.

After this exchange, Dudley and his father left the room. As they walked, they chattered on about how Dudley would have to act at Smeltings, so as to carry on the family legacy. Harry slouched back to his cupboard. Pulling the envelope from under his mattress, he reread it slowly. _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. He thought solemnly. _I need to get there. I need to find a way there. _As Harry was reading through the section of the letter defining pets that may be brought, the cupboard door was thrown open. Dudley stood outside with his Smeltings stick and yelled, "Da just told me you'll be going to a public school next year! Only idiots and wankers go to public school!" before realizing what Harry held. "Is that the letter?" Dudley said questioningly.

"Dudley, please don't—" Harry began before Dudley bellowed "Dad! Harry has the letter you took away from him!"

The sound of a herd of elephants falling down the stairs, crashing through a wall, and falling through several floors of concrete resonated through the house before Vernon appeared, puffing. He looked down at the letter and snatched it from Harry's hand. "You. Will. Not. Be. Going. I'll have no magic nonsense in this house!" he said before cuffing Harry hard in the face and slamming the door shut.

Harry heard the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place and Dudley's questioning voice. "What magic, father? And where can't he go?"

"Do not ask any more questions!" Vernon shouted furiously. "Forget you heard anything." And there was the sound of a very hefty man stomping away, followed by his similarly heavy child.

Harry sat in his cupboard and wept. He had thought if he kept the letter a secret he might have some small chance at leaving. At escaping. But there was none now. It was July the 25th. He had no idea when he would be let out of his cupboard, but there was certainly no chance he would be let out in time to find a way to respond to the letter. Harry slumped his head against the door and cried out, knowing that no one was listening.

**A/N: So there's chapter 3! Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. I'm planning on uploading another chapter quite soon! If you enjoyed, please review! If you hated, please review anyway : ). Let me know where you're hoping this goes and what you're hoping happens. Again, big thanks to my new beta, Maudlynn. See you soon!**

**Where were you when I was playing with fire?**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Keeper of the Keys

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's favorited, followed, and reviewed this story! Over 1,000 views in 4 days! I'm so glad people are taking the time to read this!**

**With that out of the way, I'll move on to my note for this chapter. A lot of the story will be similar to the canon in the beginning. As the story moves forward, it will depart further from the canon due to the characters being fundamentally different, this will happen gradually, however, and you'll see some of that departure in this chapter. **

**Starfox5: In regards to the public school issue, I meant to put a note in my previous A/N that if I got anything wrong regarding British word choice or culture I apologized in advance. I have no concept of many of the cultural differences between America and Britain, having never been there : ). Please let me know if I make any egregious errors throughout the rest of this fic, I can always use more knowledge ; ).**

Harry sat in his closet for days. Once a day his aunt would pass in food to him before relocking the door. He was allowed to leave to use the restroom once a day before being locked back in. This was not the first time that Harry had been stuck in his closet, nor was it even the worst treatment he had received; but Harry raged at his imprisonment far more than he ever had before. He sat locked in his closet, day after day, looking for any way out. He threw himself at the door. He tried to use a loose nail to pry the deadbolt apart, stabbing himself repeatedly in the process. Eventually he gave up on conventional means of opening the door and began to actively attempt the things he had previously achieved accidentally.

Harry thought of the time when Vernon had beat him for bringing food into his closet in his sleep. Through all the beating and the following solitude, Harry had never truly believed that the food being in the closet was his fault. He had no explanation of what _had_ caused its movement, but he had felt certain that it was not by any effort of his. He thought to when he had appeared on the roof of the school. It had seemed vaguely impossible for him to have jumped that high, but he had firmly _known_ that no effort of his could have caused the extraordinary.

The letter changed all that. Every moment of denying ability, every thought if impossibility, all these were remnants of a distant past where Harry didn't believe in magic. He sat in his cupboard, staring at the locked deadbolt that held him within the room. He gazed at the place to insert the key. He mentally tore apart the lock, imagining the place where key meets tumbler, the turn, the click of it opening, and finally his escape. He focused the whole of his being on somehow getting past this one obstacle. He pushed out with his consciousness, attempting to extend it beyond his own body, attempting to somehow make his will corporeal. Harry searched along the path of some natural feeling he possessed. He pressed down on his own mind, feeling as if he was a moment from success at any point, as if his ability was something that was waiting for him to awaken so that it may bend the world around him to his will.

Occasionally, the thought would occur to him that all of this seemed possible because he had cracked. He rarely thought on this, but thought it possible, even likely, that he may have gone insane. Nonetheless, Harry attacked the lock in his mind, attempting to break it with his mind. He sat there for hours, concentrating only on his escape. He turned off the light, hoping that his lack of sight would somehow make it easier. He had heard that when one loses one sense, the others compensate; maybe this was the same?

Eventually, Harry changed his method of attack. He began trying to move himself to the other side of the door, transporting as he had when running from Dudley and Piers in the schoolyard. He focused on his body, feeling out each muscle and bone, and focused on moving to the spot outside of his door, a place he knew very well. He thought about the slate blue tile with the diamond pattern that covered the floor outside of his closet. He thought of the pale green walls stretching to the white and grey striped ceiling.

Harry knew that hallway like the back of his hand. That hallway had been the main attraction of every fantasy Harry held when locked in his cupboard, weak from hunger and pain. The thought of escape had been what held Harry together in the moments between life. Harry concentrated on moving his body through the door and into the hallway. He held the image of that exit in his mind and attempted to push himself from where he was to the place he saw. With every moment that Harry concentrated he felt a growing pressure, almost as if his skull was being compressed. A tingling began in his fingertips. He suddenly felt an intense squeezing sensation around his chest and was unable to breathe.

Harry shook briefly and the sensations faded. Unsure of what had happened, but not wanting to repeat what he had felt, Harry again changed tactics. He began to focus on the keyhole of the padlock. He knew that there was a key. It was somewhere in this house. Harry hadn't seen it, but he knew it had to exist. He began to imagine the inner turnings of the lock again, not focusing on moving them this time, but instead focusing on filling the empty spaces. Harry poured out himself into the attempt of drawing the key to the lock to which it belonged. He threw his anger and torment into drawing the key. His hatred for the Dursleys, his desire for freedom, his hope of a better life, he poured his emotions into drawing the key to him. In the midst of a dark room, on a dark night, Harry emptied his emotions into one desperate wish.

After hours of this, Harry finally gave in. He slumped off of the bed he had been sitting on and wept piteously. The tears streaked down his face, leaving salty trails for those behind them to follow. _All I wanted was to go somewhere where I could be accepted. _He thought hopelessly. _Somewhere where someone would love me. _

"I guess that was too much to ask." Harry said angrily to himself.

He looked up to the empty lock, but it was no longer empty. Sitting perfectly nestled into the golden deadbolt was a silver key. Harry stared at it in disbelief. It was there, right in front of his face. He could get out. A moment of panic struck him. _What if this is the wrong key?_ He thought desperately. He quickly grabbed the key and turned it sharply, there was a soft click as the bolt slid back into the mechanism. Harry began to weep again, not from sadness, but from an absolutely disbelieving joy. He had done it.

He turned and gathered his few possessions into a sack that once held potatoes. There were four shirts and two pairs of pants, all of which were too big for him; a small picture of what he assumed were his parents that he had found at the bottom of a box of photos in the Dursleys storage room, jammed tightly between a wooden sconce and the wall of the box, and the blanket from his bed. These few things were the sum of his possessions.

Harry pressed open the cupboard door and was about to sneak from the house when he had a thought. He turned back to the door to his cupboard and removed the key from the lock, slipping it into his left pocket. Harry quietly opened the front door and looked out at Privet Drive. He had no notion of where he was going, but he knew it was better than here.

Just as Harry's foot touched the step, he felt that same feeling he had been feeling on and off for several weeks. He felt eyes on him. He looked up to see a giant of a man standing a dozen yards away holding an umbrella and facing the opposite direction from him who was looking around in a puzzled manner.

"Number four… where is number four?" The man muttered to himself before turning around. As he did, he saw Harry standing on the step with his makeshift rucksack in hand.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. He felt as if he should be afraid of this giant man with a mess of tangled dark hair, but felt unreasonably calm for some reason.

"M'names Hagrid." The man said. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at 'ogwarts. You look like you must be 'Arry."

Harry nodded slowly. "What are you here for?"

"Why ter get you to 'ogwarts a'course!" Hagrid said jovially. He looked at the potato bag Harry clutched. "You seem ter be all set ta be goin' somewhere as it is. Was you expecting someone?"

"No." Harry said quietly. "Just needed to get out of here."

Hagrid looked at the house and back to Harry. "'Arry, is something going on here? Summat bad?"

Harry looked up at the large man, unanswering. "Will you keep me safe?"

When he heard the question Harry saw Hagrid's jaw tighten and a dark look entered his eyes. "Of course, 'Arry. Yeh've nothing ter worry 'bout when yeh're with me."

Light suddenly streamed from the house behind Harry, bathing he and Hagrid. He turned and saw Vernon standing in the doorway with a baseball bat. Harry looked at him and backed several steps away. Hagrid watched Harry do this and looked back to the fat, pajama-clothed man in the doorway.

"Who are you!?" Vernon called out into the street before seeing Harry. "Get back in here you fool boy!"

Harry hid himself behind Hagrid's large frame and whispered, "Get me out of here."

Instead of answering Harry, Hagrid called out, "Vernon Dursley, what have you been doing to this boy?"

Vernon looked at the man, seeming to take in the fact that this man was not normal all at once. He was over seven feet tall, with long, dark hair and a round face. In one hand was an umbrella that he was pointing at Vernon as if it was a dangerous weapon.

"What I do in my home is none of your business!" he called out with a great deal of fear in his voice. "Now get out of here before I call the police!"

Harry shivered in fear at the thought of staying there any longer. He knew if Hagrid left, Vernon would try to catch him. He turned out toward the street and ran, sprinting with all he had away from Vernon and Petunia. Away from the cupboard. Away from the iron poker. Away from his fat cousin.

Hagrid saw Harry running and looked at Vernon. "You and I will 'ave words!" He shouted at Vernon before turning and running to catch Harry. Harry slowed when he saw Hagrid trying to catch him. He almost laughed at the large man's running gait, he was so large that when he ran it seemed as if a group of men were running together. Hagrid finally caught up to the boy and stopped, catching his breath.

"'Arry—child—did you get yer letter?" Hagrid said between breaths

Harry nodded. "I got the letter, but I don't have any money to pay for the required items. I don't even know where to find Hogwarts. And my uncle won't help me."

"Don't worry 'bout that." Hagrid said. He looked up at the sky. "It's the middle of the night, I'll take you summere we can bed down fer the night." He looked at Harry again. "And get some food fer yeh."

Harry looked at him. "Thank you, but…" he trailed off, not wanting to offend the large man.

"What is it 'Arry?" Hagrid asked.

"Well, it's just, I don't mean to offend, but why are you here?"

"I'm here ter make sure that Harry Potter gets taken care of. I was sent on personal request of Dumbledore hisself."

"Who's Dumbledore?" Harry asked quickly.

"Dumbledore is the man that's goin' ta be yer 'eadmaster Harry. He's the finest 'eadmaster that 'ogwarts as ever seen!" Hagrid said vociferously

Hagrid and Harry walked for close to ten minutes, becoming acquainted with one another. Hagrid told Harry all about Hogwarts, about how it was a school for wizards. He told Harry that it was his favorite place in the world. Harry asked the occasional question, but was in a euphoric daze that it seemed he wouldn't have to be with the Dursleys any longer. Eventually though, a thought occurred to him.

"Hagrid," he asked "how did I become a wizard? Does it just happen spontaneously, or was I chosen, or is it because someone in my family was a wizard?"

Hagrid stopped in his tracks. "You mean they never told you?" Hagrid asked quietly.

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"You don't know about yer parents?" Hagrid asked

"All I know is that they died in a car crash, the Dursleys—" Harry said before being interrupted by Hagrid.

"Lily and James Potter killed by a car crash!?" He shouted. "They were some o' the best wizards of their generation! As if a car crash could harm them." He looked down at Harry and visibly tried to calm herself. "Yer parents were wizards Harry. Great wizards."

"Then how'd they die?" Harry asked, desperate for more information. He felt like in the last week his entire world had been flipped and nothing he thought was true had ever really been true.

Hagrid looked down wearily. "Come with me." He said, raising his umbrella to the street.

Suddenly a double decker bus appeared in the street as if from nowhere. Across the side the words _Knight Bus_ were emblazoned.

Hagrid boarded the bus and a young man greeted him at the door. Harry quickly followed behind. "Hagrid, where are we going."

"Diagon Alley." Hagrid said to the conducter.

**And there we are. Another chapter finished. Please review and let me know what you guys think. Finally, tell me if there's anything I could improve on. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!**

**Where were you when I was returning the smile you'd had from the start?**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Diagon Alley

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed over the last couple chapters! You guys rock! Don't have much to say in this note, clearly I don't own Harry Potter though ; ).**

**Mychakk: I think you'll find my take on Dumbledore to be rather less straightforward than bashing or hero. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Anotherboarduser: You have to remember that Harry is only just turning eleven. How would he hope to fight back? And currently, there is no electronic record of anything that has happened at the Dursleys. Also I firmly believe in placing blame where blame is due. Dumbledore didn't beat Harry. He placed him with the Dursleys, who beat him. I don't believe that any blackmail should be directed at him for that. Secondly, I think it is a much more interesting question **_**why**_** Dumbledore would place Harry with them. As for Harry hurting them, he's been the smallest person in the family who was malnourished frequently with occasional beatings mixed in, how do you suggest he hurt them? **

**Mizu-bozu: That's one thing I'm going to be trying to mend throughout the series. I feel that many characters were glorified placeholders who had no real depth of character. As for the Ronald question, I think you'll understand what happens, and I hope you enjoy it. **

Harry awoke in an unfamiliar place. He looked around at his rectangular room, saw the second bed with Hagrid's large form draped over it. He watched as Hagrid's hair, draped over his face, puffed up slightly with each exhale from his large lungs. Harry laid contentedly in his bed at the Leaky Cauldron and remembered the previous night.

The young conductor of the Knight Bus, Stan Shunpike, had stared openly at Harry when he had been pulled along past Hagrid. "Is that 'im?" He was able to stutter out before they had arrived at a pair of seats. Hagrid nodded slowly at Stan. "Aye, this is 'Arry Potter. 'Arry, this is Stan Shunpike, he's the conductor of the Knight Bus."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry said quietly. Stan continued to stare at him as if he was from another planet. Harry was beginning to look nervous until Stan finally spoke up. "A pleasure, Mr. Potter. An absolute pleasure."

He stepped forward and grasped Harry's hand into a rough handshake, pumping his arm up and down violently.

"Ta Diagon Alley, then?" Hagrid said suggestively. Stan nodded immediately and said, "Oh yes—Yes, sir. Right away." Casting one last look at Harry before returning to the front of the double decker bus. When he was safely situated near the front of the bus, Harry whispered to Hagrid, "Why was he staring at me? Is there something wrong with me?"

"I'll explain everything at the Cauldron." Hagrid responded. "We'll get ya a bite ta hold ya over."

The rest of the jerky ride was made in silence, punctuated sharply by crash and cry when the bus halted or jumped to a start. The silence resting between Harry and Hagrid was not uncomfortable, it held no sinister intent. It was a friendly sort of silence, the sort that grows between two close friends. The only strangeness about it was that Harry and Hagrid had met each other only that night.

Harry's thoughts explored everything that had happened in the last hour like it was a wound he had just found in his mouth that he couldn't leave alone. He thought of the appearance of the key within his cupboard; of his escape, and meeting with Hagrid. He thought of the confrontation with Vernon. It all seemed so surreal. He was a wizard. He could do magic. As he looked at the large man sitting quietly next to him, Harry began to understand that his life had been inextricably changed. He would never be the same child he had been an hour ago.

They jerked to a stop at the Leaky Cauldron where Hagrid attempted to pay Stan Shunpike, but was waved off. "It was a pleasure, sir." The young man said, staring oddly at Harry.

Harry just nodded vaguely, having no idea why the man was acting in this manner, and followed Hagrid off the bus and into the Leaky Cauldron. Harry held tightly onto his roughly-made backpack. As they entered the Leaky Cauldron in the small hours of the night, Hagrid turned to Harry.

"Can't quite know who might be in there." He said quietly. "If they stare at ya, just ignore 'em. I'll explain when we get to our rooms."

Harry nodded. "Thank you." He said timidly to the large man.

Hagrid looked down at Harry with an expression Harry found unreadable, and then they entered. There were a few worn-looking patrons sitting around the Leaky Cauldron even at this late hour. Some looked up when they heard the door open, but most continued staring into their drinks or talking boisterously with the others around them. Of those who looked, it appeared that there were several who hadn't even noticed Harry enter next to Hagrid's large form.

As they approached the bar, Hagrid looked up to the man behind the bar. "Hullo, Tom. How are you today?" He asked with his broad smile.

"I'm doing quite well, Hagrid. The usual for you?"

"Not tonight, Tom. Me and the boy need beds and summat to eat."

Tom looked down to Harry, having not noticed him standing shyly next to Hagrid. He began to look away before double-taking to the lightning-shaped scar that adorned his forehead. "Bless my soul. It's Harry Potter." He whispered reverently.

All noise within the small bar halted at this proclamation. Heads turned and stares were refocused from half-empty mugs of ale to the small child by the bar. Harry froze at the attention. He hadn't been moving so much previously, but as the stares of every patron locked onto him, Harry stopped everything. It appeared as if he almost didn't breathe.

Hagrid looked at the man behind the bar. "We'll be needing some room keys, and whatever yeh've got to eat brought to the room."

At this, Tom roused himself from his revery. "Of course sirs." He said gracefully, as if to Hagrid, but clearly his attention was only for Harry. "May I—may I shake your hand?" He stuttered to Harry.

Harry nodded dumbly and held out a hand for the bar owner to shake. Tom grasped Harry's hand between both of his and pumped them up and down, all the while wearing an expression of one who unexpectedly encounters a beautiful animal. "Thank you, sir. Thank you." He said before grabbing a key from the wall behind him and leading the pair up to their room. As Hagrid and Harry turned their backs to the people within the bar and began to ascend the stairs, Harry heard bursts of whispered conversation being struck up at every table.

Tom led them up to the second floor, turning to the right when he reached the intersection at the top of the stairs, and opening the second door on the left with the key he had in his hand. As they entered the room Tom watched the pair closely, as if trying to glean information. "What would you sirs like to eat?" He said genially.

"Whatever yeh've got on hand." Hagrid said with his deep voice. "Don't want ter be no nuisance. Appreciate it if ya'd help us keep some privacy. 'Arry and I needs have a serious talk."

Tom nodded, his eyes locking once again onto Harry and his scar. "Well if you need anything, let me know. I'll be just downstairs. Again, it's an absolute pleasure to meet you." He said before exiting the room.

After the man left the room, Harry burst out, "What was that, Hagrid? Why were they all staring at me?"

Hagrid let out a massive sigh. "Let me gather meself. I don't even know where to start."

There was a silence as Hagrid paced the room furiously. Harry sat in a nearby chair, waiting for Hagrid to begin his explanation. Eventually, Hagrid sighed again and started.

"I guess there's nowhere to start but the beginning. Firstly, there is a world of wizards that muggles don't know a thing about."

"Muggles?" Harry said questioningly.

"Non-magic folk." Hagrid said, waving his hand as if banishing the thought of such people. "There's laws and rules to keep wizards from getting found out. Muggles and wizards don't have the best of histories relating to each other."

"Now, wizards go to schools all over the world to learn magic, but the best of these schools is 'ogwarts, it's where yer parents went. Well as good as 'ogwarts is, they teach wizards that go on to be the most powerful wizards in the world, but every school has wizards that go bad. Now a few years back there was a wizard who went as bad as you can go. Everyone calls him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Why do they call him that?" Harry asked.

"Well, it used to be he was so powerful that folk were mighty afraid saying his name. Only those who wasn't scared would say it, or who served him. Other folk just called him You-Know-Who."

"What's his name though?" Harry said inquisitively.

"I'm gettin' ta that." Hagrid said, exasperated. He paused for a moment, steeling himself. "His name was Vol—Voldemort." As Hagrid said this, he shuddered like he was shaking off a layer of ice.

"What did he do?" Harry asked.

"Well he built himself an army of followers, and tried to take control of the wizarding world. His followers raged throughout Europe, and he held a good deal of power before he was defeated."

"How was he defeated?"

"Well, Harry. That's where you come in. You see, Voldemort had followers all through Russia, Germany, and much of the rest of Europe. So he set his sights on England. He knew that England would be the point that won or lost him the war. Well, people fought him. None of them wanted You-Know-Who taking over. Albus Dumbledore created the Order of the Phoenix, a group that tried to stop You-Know-Who. Your parents were part of that group." Harry listened with rapt attention.

"Well You-Know-Who had seen yer parents fighting him and he decided ta get rid of them. Your parents were awful strong, 'Arry. Awful strong. But they knew it was only a matter of time unless they hid somewheres safe. When You-Know-Who got wanting to kill ya it was all ya could do. Well they stayed safe for a while, but 'ventually, You-Know-Who found them."

"He came to your parents' house and killed them, then he tried to kill you. Now killing was You-Know-Who's business. It was what he was best at, and no one survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill 'em. But something happened that night, 'arry. You were the boy who lived. Something about ya beat him that night. That's why you're famous. The darkest wizard of our time tried to kill you, and all you got was that scar."

Harry just sat, stunned. His parents had been murdered by a dark wizard; a dark wizard who had tried to kill Harry. His thoughts ran through the events of his life in an entirely new light. He was with the Dursleys because of Voldemort. In that moment he told himself he would never even think of him as You-Know-Who. He would give no honor to the man that destroyed his life.

"What happened to Voldemort?" Harry's voice came out in a whisper, surprising him.

"Don't say his name!" Hagrid nearly shouted. He composed himself for a moment as Harry's bright green eyes gazed at him. "No one knows exactly what happened to him that night, 'arry. Some folk say he's dead and gone, and good riddance! But I think he's waiting for the right time to come back. And when he does, we better be ready."

And on that dark note, the conversation had ended. Tom brought the quiet pair their food and they ate in silence. When they had finished, each went to his bed. Harry didn't know if Hagrid slept, but he couldn't. He sat up late into the night and watched as the room gradually brightened into daytime. His whole world had been entirely turned around.

He started to understand why Vernon and Petunia had always been so angry when he acted any way but normal. They were afraid. They were afraid of the little magic boy who had killed a genocidal maniac before he could walk, and the genocidal maniac who wanted that boy dead.

Harry had contemplated all of this throughout the night, and now sat with his potato-sack turned over, all of his earthly possessions next to him on the bed. This is how Harry began the day of July 31st. Holding a small, silver key in one hand; and a picture of two people he had never known in his other hand. Two people he had never had the chance to know. The two greatest people in the world. His tears dripped off of his face and ran across the photo, leaving no mark of their passing.

Harry sat like this still. Looking at the photo, holding the key. His tears had long since dried when Hagrid awoke. The big man rolled slowly from his bed and looked down to Harry sitting on his.

"'arry, are yeh alright?"

Harry nodded. "I'll be fine, just had to get used to my new life."

Hagrid nodded, then a wide smile broke out on his face. "'Arry! 'appy birthday!"

Harry smiled slightly, his face fell again a moment later though.

"What's wrong?" Hagrid asked quickly.

Harry let the question hang for a long moment before replying.

"Hagrid, thank you for saving me from the Dursleys. I can't stand the idea of living there without knowing any of this." He gestured with his hands as if to signify everything around them. "And I'd really like to go to Hogwarts. But I don't have any money to pay for tuition. I can't even afford a bus ride on my own. So I don't think I can go there with you." By the time Harry had finished speaking, he had dropped his head. His eyes pointed to the floor and filled with tears. He wanted nothing more than to learn magic at the same school his parents had attended, but he knew that without money, that wasn't an option. He didn't even know what _was_ an option.

"'arry my boy! Is that all?" Hagrid said with a broad smile. "'arry, look at me."

Harry met Hagrid's eyes warily.

"Ya don't have to worry about money. Even if ya didn't have a knut, people from across the world would be making lines ta see who could donate first ta help the Boy Who Lived." Hagrid said softly. Harry's expression changed and he was about to speak when Hagrid continued, "But don't worry about that 'arry. Yer folks didn't leave you with nothing. Come on, I'll show yeh."

Hagrid pulled Harry to his feet and led him from the room and down into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron. There were significantly more people in the dim room this time. As they entered, Harry had the peculiar feeling that he was a character in a play, and each person in the room had just been pretending to do something else until the main character arrived and their scene began.

Harry was passed from person to person, none of whom he knew, receiving various greetings like:

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back."

Or

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Potter."

Everyone was giving Harry business cards for whatever service they provided. There were cards for de-gnoming a garden, repairing magical wardings, and, oddly enough, plumbing repair. The man who had provided this wore a red shirt with blue overalls, a red cap with a white 'M' on it, and an obviously fake black moustache. He looked distinctly familiar to Harry.

As Hagrid ushered Harry away from the group and closer to the door, Harry asked, "What was that man wearing? He looked like a video game character."

"Well I've never seen no videa game. But that's the plumber's uniform. Yeh see, some magic folks choose to make their livin' fixin' things in the muggle world, 'stead of some dangerous work in our world." Hagrid shot Harry a significant look when he said this. "He runs a plumber's company, so he wears the uniform."

"Hagrid, plumbers don't all wear red shirts and overalls. It's just a character."

Hagrid looked at Harry incredulously for a moment. "Are yeh sure, Harry? He's a plumber, I think he'd know his business."

They were almost to the back exit from the Leaky Cauldron when a man wearing a purple turban approached them. "H-Harry P-Potter." He said stuttering. "P-pleased to meet you."

"This is Professor Quirrell, he'll be yer Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at 'ogwarts."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry said sincerely.

"I hope you'll enj-joy my class, P-Potter. Not that y-you'll need it." Quirrell said with a smile. Tom exited from the pantry door directly behind Quirrell and the turbaned professor jumped almost a foot in the air and clutch at the wood bar behind him for support.

"T-T-Tom! Y-you g-gave me a t-t-turn there."

Tom looked at him wryly, almost laughing. "I apologize Professor, I only meant to grab some carrots."

"Y-yes. Of c-course." Quirrell said shakily.

"Well, me and Harry must be off." Hagrid said to Quirrell. "He has to get 'is supplies and make a stop at Gringotts to boot."

Quirrell nodded and bid them farewell before Hagrid opened the rear exit of the Leaky Cauldron. It led into an alley with brick walls on three sides. The only thing in the small area was a full trash can. "Three up, two across." Hagrid muttered to himself, tapping a particular brick with his umbrella.

Suddenly, the brick wall in front of them receded into itself. Bricks sliding and shifting as the wall just sort of melted away. "Th-that was amazing!" Harry yelled out. Hagrid gave Harry an odd look. "Yeh'll see much more than that here. Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Harry was amazed. All around were people milling through the streets as if it was entirely normal. This was far from the case. Harry saw stores selling potions ingredients, owls were flying up and down the street, men were demonstrating some sort of sheet that when they put it on, made them disappear.

"What's that Hagrid?" Harry said pointing at the group of men.

"That's an invisibility cloak, 'Arry. They make yeh invisible if yeh wear 'em, but they aren't worth what they cost. Yeh won't find one for less than fifty galleons, and they're the cheap ones. Lose their charms before yeh know it. If you get hit by most any spell, they'll break then and there."

Harry just nodded along. "It'd be amazing to be invisible."

Hagrid nodded, "But money's much better spent."

As they walked down the street, they passed various storefronts such as Ollivander's Wand Shop, Eeylop's Owl Emporium, Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, and a dozen others. "What's Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Gringotts is the wizarding bank. It's where wizard families keep their money. Run by goblins, that."

"Goblins?" Harry asked, amazed.

Hagrid nodded. "Only a fool would dare try and steal from goblins. Brilliant minds, goblins; but vicious. No safer place ter keep something. Even heard dragons guard the highest security vaults. I'd love ter get my hands on a dragon."

"You want a dragon?" Harry asked.

"Always have, since I was a boy. Magnificent creatures, dragons."

They approached the front doors of Gringotts and entered the lobby. All around, wizards and goblins moved about doing their business. Harry tried not to gape openly at his first sight of the goblins. There were goblins doing all sorts of things. Some were writing in great books of numbers; some were examining precious stones to determine their value; some were leading wizards out through the many doors that were around the hall. They approached a goblin behind a desk.

"Mr. 'arry Potter is here to make a withdrawal." Hagrid said to the goblin at the desk.

"Does Mr. Potter have his key?" The goblin asked.

"Got it right 'ere." Hagrid said, producing a small golden key from one of his large pockets.

He then dug around in his pocket and produced a letter. "That's from Dumbledore, about vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin nodded and said, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook approached them, and led the pair out of a door on the far side of the hall. In front of them was a cart secured to a track. Hagrid and Harry boarded with some difficulty due to Hagrid's size. Griphook then took his place in front of the cart and they began to roll down the track. They gained speed rapidly and were soon jerking through turns and drops.

They passed places where the track split in three directions and they went left. There were places where some tracks broke off and ended abruptly, leaving a drop-off of several hundred feet in the massive cavern. Harry began to understand why Hagrid had said no sane person would try to rob Gringotts. It was a maze. A maze with dead ends and traps all around. Then Harry noticed Griphook wasn't steering.

They arrived at Harry's vault first, Griphook chiming out, "Vault six hundred and eighty-seven." Griphook took the golden key from Hagrid and inserted it into an imperceptible keyhole. Griphook turned the key in the lock and the door swung open. Inside, there were hundreds of coins. Gold coins stacked in great mounds, silver coins piled high in the back of the room and knuts laid throughout the floor.

"This is all mine?" Harry gasped disbelievingly. "I can't believe it." The Dursleys couldn't have known about this. They would have taken it all.

"All yours, Harry. Your parents were mighty fine wizards."

"How much do I need?" Harry asked.

"Well, let me explain the coins. The gold ones are called galleons. The silver coins are sickles. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon. Finally, the bronze coins are knuts. Twenty-nine knuts go to a sickle."

"Alright." Harry said, trying to memorize the numbers. "But how much do I need? I don't know how much anything will cost. I don't even have my equipment list."

"Oh, that's right." Hagrid said quickly as he began digging his hands through his pockets before producing a scrap of parchment. "Dumbledore had me bring this, just in case." He handed Harry a letter identical to the one Vernon had taken from him. He moved quickly to the equipment list.

"First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes; black, one plain pointed black hat for day wear, one pair of protective gloves; dragon hide or similar, and one winter cloak with black or silver fastenings. Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags."

"All students should have a copy of each of the following: _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk, _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot, _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emetic Switch, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore, _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander, and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble."

"Students will also require a wand, a standard size 2 pewter cauldron, glass or crystal phials, a telescope set, and a set of brass scales. Students may also bring an owl, a cat, or a toad. Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks."

Hagrid nodded along as Harry listed the items. "Should be about twelve galleons for that." Hagrid said. "Yeh should probably take about 15 galleons so yeh have some money. Each term will have some small costs."

"But what about tuition, Hagrid?"

"Yer parents had paid your tuition before they died. Yer names been on 'ogwarts books for years."

Harry looked around the vault. His eyes searched out every item. There were books stacked in the back, a silver chess set in one corner. There was a writing desk on which sat an open book with a black feather quill resting over it. The page to which it was turned was dotted with dried tears. Harry peered down at the book and read.

"If you're reading this, son. That means we've died. This is your mother's diary. I want you to take it. Read it. It won't be the same, but it'll be something. Your father's journal is underneath this one. They are our gifts to you. It doesn't make up for us not being there. We want you to know we love you so much. You are the most important thing in the world to us. We're so sorry for not being there with you. We know it has to be hard, you have to feel nervous and scared reading this; but your father and I hope you'll put on a brave face and show the world how fantastic we know you are. I know it's unfair that we're already asking you to do things for us, but we can't help it. We're parents. Your father asks that you finish his journal when you reach the end. And remember, we love you so much."

Tears were streaming down his face as he finished reading. His mother's words. His mother's handwriting. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful. Harry took the book in his hand and closed it before withdrawing his father's as well. He grabbed the black feather quill and placed it neatly between two pages of his mother's diary.

Harry took fifteen galleons from the large stacks of money in the vault and placed it in a purse Hagrid had found among the stacks and they exited. They piled back into the cart and descended farther down into the darkness. After a couple of minutes, they arrived at their destination. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen." Griphook called.

Only Hagrid entered this vault, withdrawing the one shabby package that was inside the vault before they ascended back to the surface. Harry remained quiet as they exited the large bank, holding tightly to the two books in his hand. Hagrid looked down at him.

"Best get yer robes." He said, pointing to Madam Malkin's shop. "If you don't mind, I have some quick business to conduct; will you be alright getting your robes alone?"

Harry nodded his head and they parted ways as Harry ducked into the clothing shop. As he entered, a stout woman with curly brown hair greeted him. She looked to be in her mid-thirty's and had a measuring tape thrown over her shoulder.

"Another one for Hogwarts?" She asked Harry. He nodded and looked at her nervously.

"Come on back then." She said, leading him to a fitting room where she began taking his measurements.

"So, are you excited for your first year?" she questioned politely.

Harry nodded slowly. He felt unendingly nervous now that Hagrid had left him. Something about the man's presence had made all of this seem more manageable. Harry remembered the contents of his mother's letter; her request for him to be brave.

"W-what's it like?" Harry asked quietly.

"It's one of the best places in the world." Madam Malkin said as she measured his arms. "There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. I was a Hufflepuff." She said the last proudly.

"What are the houses like?"

"Well they're based on the four Hogwarts founders. Gryffindor sorted out the students he thought were the bravest, Ravenclaw wanted only the smartest students, Slytherin wanted those with ambition, and Hufflepuff would take any student with dedication."

Harry nodded as Madam Malkin finished her measuring. She then looked up at Harry's face.

"I'm sure you'll do fine. A young, handsome man like you couldn't go wrong at Hogwarts."

Harry blushed as she said this and Madam Malkin ruffled his messy hair. As she did so, Madam Malkin saw his lightning-bolt scar for the first time. "Oh my," she whispered. "You're Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you. I knew your parents."

At this, Harry's attention was piqued. "How did you know them?"

"They were in my year at Hogwarts." Madam Malkin said.

"What houses were they in?" Harry asked eagerly.

"They were both Gryffindors," Madam Malkin said with a smile. "but I never held it against them. They were two of the best people I've ever met."

Harry smiled and they talked of his parents for the rest of his fitting. He exited the robe shop and stood outside waiting for Hagrid. After standing for close to ten minutes, Harry was impatient and decided he would continue buying the items on his list. He pored over the items on the list and was at a loss of where to obtain which items.

His eyes locked on one word. Wand. Harry looked up and saw Ollivander's Wand Shop just across the street. He ducked his head back into Madam Malkin's and asked her to tell Hagrid he had gone to get his wand when he returned, then he walked briskly back across the street and opened Ollivander's door.

**A/N: Wow, that chapter turned out much longer than I had expected it to be. Please review and let me know what you thought! I hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it. If you have any questions as to why I made the choices I did, I'll be happy to answer them. Next update should be today or tomorrow unless the chapter ends up telling me it needs to be longer like this one did. Thank you so much for reading!**

**Where were you when I was studying politics?**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Wands and Warlocks

**A/N: Firstly, I don't own Harry Potter. **

**Now that that's out of the way I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. There's nothing like knowing that people are actively waiting to find out the rest of the story. Now I don't wanna be that guy that begs for attention, but if anyone here is interested in post-hardcore music, my band is currently competing to play at Warped Tour in San Antonio. If you're feeling like checking it out (I write all the music, so it shows another side of my writing) the link is warped dot battleofthebands dot com /u/UntilTheEnd .**

**Starfox5: Every small change you see now will change the rest of the events accordingly. For example, if you look at Voldemort as having control of much of Russia and other European countries**_ before_ **he came to Britain the first time, it entirely changes the level of the threat, and therefore the response. It would probably be safe to assume that Voldemort's first rise was similar to the beginning of a world war. This would also explain why people are so afraid of him rising again.**

**Anotherboarduser: I will answer your questions in order. As I have said, I might make mistakes when it comes to British culture, but in America when a child is underage and they come into money, they don't gain control of it until they become legal adults. This means that legally, if Harry were to try and buy a house (for example) to get away from the Dursleys, they would legally own the house until he was eighteen unless he became emancipated or someone else became his legal guardians, at least from the muggle side of things. As for the abuse situation, police will often never find out about abuse within the home. Statistically, it's more likely that the authorities would never know than that they would. Harry has only been taken to the hospital once because of a beating. Even if there was more evidence, children are not generally allowed outside of their parent's sight. This means that Harry would never have the opportunity to report something to the police. Even if there was an investigation, many children will not tell an officer that they have been abused for fear of punishment. Finally, you are assuming that all of the things that are in canon are in place in my world. Many, if not most, have changed. The rules of the game are unknown to you, so you'll have to wait for me to reveal them before you can criticize the logic of my playing.**

Harry entered Ollivander's Wand Shop and saw a young boy already standing in front of the counter. He was slightly taller than Harry, and was adorned in robes of the finest midnight blue. Harry paused when he saw him. "I would like a wand of _aspen_." The blond boy said as if he was lecturing a donkey on the finer points of wandlore. "It is a find duelist's wand and I shall be a fine duelist."

The man behind the desk was shaking his head firmly. "As I have already said, an aspen wand is not for you. The wand chooses the wizard, if you would like your wand to perform—"

"I know what you've said you old goat!" The boy said venomously. "It is your job as a wandmaker to find me a wand that suits both me and my desires."

"Child," the man said, clearly angry. "I will not sell you a wand that has not chosen you." He gestured to a wand made of dark wood, nearly black. "This wand has chosen you. If you want me to cater to your foolishness you may go somewhere else."

The child looked at the old man. "My father will be hearing about this!" He said to the man before turning to leave. He stopped when he saw Harry at the door.

"And who are you?" the boy said haughtily, looking at Harry's ragged clothes and the books held in his hands.

In that moment, Harry decided that he did not like this boy. "My name's Harry."

The blond boy looked him up and down for a moment before his eyes locked on Harry's scar. His demeanor changed immediately. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Draco Malfoy." He extended a hand for Harry to shake.

Harry took hold of Draco's hand and shook it, eyes watching the boy the entire time. "This old cocker tried to sell me an inferior product. I asked him for an aspen wand and he gave me this. 'Yew and dragon heartstring!' he says. Bet he expected me to be fooled by his salesmanship."

As he talked, Draco's eyes flitted from place to place, lighting on each item he saw before flitting away to the next. He prattled on for a while, bemoaning the old man, who he said was Ollivander, the shop owner, and his 'absolutely unforgivable behavior, before stopping and saying. "Who are you here with?"

Not expecting the sudden question, it took Harry a moment to answer. "A man who works at Hogwarts, his name's Hagrid."

Draco made a face of disgust, further cementing his place of distaste in Harry's mind. "I heard he was an old hermit. Never leaves his house, not very good at magic, doesn't bathe."

"I happen to quite like him." Harry said scathingly.

The boy gave him a serious look. "You haven't been around wizards much I don't assume. My family is very powerful, if you'd like I can show you who you should try and place yourself around. Help you get a proper start at Hogwarts."

Harry was about to reply that he didn't need any help choosing his friends, thank you, when the door opened and a tall blond man entered. He looked quickly from Draco to Harry. "Draco," he said slowly. "Who is your new… friend?" he eyed Harry's oversized clothing as he said this.

"This is Harry Potter." Draco said, having adequately determined Harry's last name from his scar. "We met just as I was telling this old bat that I would not buy an inferior wand." He said, gesturing to Ollivander as he did so. "Harry, this is my father."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry said, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

The elder Malfoy sat staring at Harry with a strange look that Harry found very disconcerting, holding his gaze for several moments longer than was socially acceptable before rousing himself visibly from his inner thoughts.

"Lucius. Lucius Malfoy." The man said. "Draco, what were you saying about this man trying to sell you something?"

"Yes, father, he tried to convince me to buy an inferior wand." As Draco said this, he and his father walked to the desk, leaving Harry momentarily to his own devices. Harry felt somehow violated by the stare of Draco's father, as if his insides were being pried open and paraded for the world to see. As he approached the desk, Lucius turned his attention to Ollivander.

"My son tells me you tried to sell him a shoddy wand, is that true?"

Ollivander shot an infuriated look at Draco before responding, "I told your son repeatedly, the wand chooses the wizard. He insists that he wants a wand of aspen, and as much as I know the desirable traits of aspen, he was not chosen by an aspen wand. This was the wand that chose him." He finished by sliding a small box forward across the desk.

Lucius looked at the boy. "You told me he tried to sell you a poor wand, not that it wasn't the wand you would've preferred." He said with a dangerous tone in his voice.

"But, father he—"

"What do you know of wandlore?" Lucius rebuked his son angrily. "No wand, regardless of its wood type, will serve you better than the wand that has chosen you. I expect you to be certain of your words before you make a fool of yourself in public."

Lucius turned to Ollivander and looked at the box he held. "What wand matched with my son?"

Ollivander's attitude seemed to be much improved after watching Draco's rebuke. "Yew with a core of dragon heartstring. Twelve and a quarter inches."

At this Lucius' face grew incredulous and he looked back at his son. "You tried to reject a wand of _yew_? Do you know anything about it, fool boy?" When Draco shook his head, Lucius asked Ollivander, "Will you be so kind as to explain the finer points of yew to him."

"Certainly." Ollivander said, looking smug. "Yew wands are somewhat rare, their matches are often unusual, sometimes even notorious. The wand of yew is said to hold the power of life and death retaining a dark and fearsome reputation for dueling and curses. Where wizards have been buried with wands of yew, the wand generally sprouts into a tree guarding the dead owner's grave. What is certain, in my experience, is that the yew wand never chooses either a mediocre or a timid owner."

With each word, Draco's face fell farther. His light skin took on a brackish quality, and the harshness of his father's gaze promised that he would receive some sort of punishment for his insolence. "Now, Mr. Ollivander, I believe Draco is quite ready to take possession of his wand. You may charge our Gringotts account." Ollivander nodded graciously. "Thank you, sir. I dearly hope your wand serves you well."

Lucius nodded and began to exit. Draco slumped along behind him, looking to Harry. Unable to resist some last word to wipe away his embarrassment, Draco said quickly, "I'll see you at Hogwarts. Maybe we'll be together in Slytherin."

Harry felt quite certain that he would rather be in any house but the house Draco was in, but was saved from voicing that when Hagrid's large frame opened the door that Lucius was about to exit. The two men froze as they saw each other, taking on a primal look. Hagrid had the look of a bear that had just stumbled unexpectedly onto a snake and was now unsure how he should avoid it. Lucius was coiled and ready to strike.

"Ahh, the industrious Rubeus Hagrid. Do you still live in your ratty hut on the Hogwarts grounds? Or have they finally stopped your drunken cavorting?"

Hagrid turned an unfortunate color that rested somewhere between purple and red and spluttered.

"Hmm, your language skills do not seem much improved since last we met. Perhaps that is the reason you are allowed to remain at Hogwarts," Lucius said with an arrogant shrug and a smile. "Maybe Dumbledore is too afraid of what damage you'd cause in the real world."

A small shape squeezed its way around Hagrid to stand in front of Lucius. "Mr. Malfoy, it is so nice to see you. How has your family been faring recently? No problems I'd hope?" The girl speaking was short of stature, especially when viewed next to Hagrid, her head resting only about a foot taller than Harry's. She had a violent blue hair color, a nose ring piercing her left nostril and eyes that were the color of lilacs on a cloudy morning.

At her words, Lucius' face took its turn to become red, and the Malfoys exited out of the door as soon as Hagrid had cleared the entrance.

"Thank yeh, but yeh didn't have to do that Tonks."

"Anything for a friend." The young witch responded with a smile. "Now you owe me a drink." She said cheerily, sticking her tongue out at Hagrid, who only chuckled in response.

Harry stood near to the pair feeling left out and generally confused about the events he had just witnessed. Hagrid seemed to return to his senses after a moment.

"I'm sorry 'arry! Yeh haven't had an introduction! This is Nymphadora Tonks—"

"Just Tonks." She interrupted. "I hate Nymphadora."

"Yes, well. Tonks anyway. She's training to become an auror."

At Harry's puzzled look Tonks offered an explanation, "It's kind of like a magical police force, but we handle a much broader variety of threats and problems."

At this Harry perked up. "What sorts of threats? Were you the ones that fought Voldemort?"

Each of the adult wizards had a different reaction to hearing Harry speak Voldemort's name aloud. Hagrid remained still, but shuddered like a tree when a strong wind blows through it. Tonks took an unplanned step backwards and tumbled over a display stand, crashing to the ground and knocking it over with her. Ollivander had perhaps the smallest reaction, but Harry noticed it the most. He did not shudder, he did not shout out, but when he heard the name, Ollivander's eyes focused on Harry while he slumped forward onto the desk in front of him while he held his left arm close to his chest, cradling himself.

"I'm sorry." Harry said immediately as he stared at the ground, not sure what to expect from them.

"No need ta be sorry." Hagrid said. "We just wasn't expecting it." He watched Tonks disentangle herself from the marble display pillar and attempted to set the wand it had held neatly back onto its small holder, fumbling it and dropping it several times before finally placing it where it belonged.

"Are-are you alright?" Harry asked Tonks nervously. He was so shaken up from their reactions that when Tonks burst out laughing he jumped nearly two full feet backwards. At this Tonks laughed even harder, doubling over and shaking silently.

Harry's confusion was apparent on his face and when Tonks stopped gasping she explained. "I'm the biggest klutz around. I was almost destined to knock something over; you just caught me before I had decided what." Harry smiled at that.

"Have yeh already got yer wand 'arry?"

After everything that had happened, Harry had almost forgotten. He turned to Ollivander. "Hello, sir. I'm here to get my wand." He said quietly, clutching his parents' journals to his hands.

"You must be Mr. Potter." Ollivander said with a smile. "I've been waiting to meet you."

Harry stood there awkwardly, not sure of how to respond. Tonks attempted to break the tension as the moment of silence extended to the point of discomfort. "Everyone's been waiting to meet our Harry here." The eighteen year old said as she snuck behind Harry and put her hands on his shoulders.

Harry jerked forward at the contact, throwing himself to his knees and covering his head with his hands.

Everyone in the room was silent. Tonks stood aghast, a hand in front of her mouth. Hagrid looked completely perplexed by what he was seeing, as if he couldn't understand a boy being afraid of a simple touch. Ollivander looked at the boy with a sadness that only the old can conjure.

Tonks had tears in her eyes as she spoke Harry's name softly.

"Harry? Harry, it's alright. I didn't mean to scare you." Harry felt his face darkening to a violent red, he was so embarrassed. First he had startled everyone in the room by saying Voldemort's name, then he had scared them by showing how truly crazy he was.

"I'm sorry." Harry said as he stood up. "I'm just not used to things like that. You startled me is all." Harry could see that Tonks didn't believe him from the utter sadness in her eyes. Her hand hovered in midair as she fought the desire to comfort the child in front of her.

"So," Hagrid finally broke the spell. "about Harry's wand."

"Yes!" Ollivander said with a forced casualness. "Let's try this one." He said as he reached for a blue box to his left, removing the wand and holding it out to Harry. "Elder and dragon heartstring." Harry took the wand and held it for a moment. "Go ahead, give it a flick." Harry did so, expecting some mighty whoosh of power to emanate from the wand.

Nothing happened.

Harry looked up at Ollivander, trying to hide his disappointment. "Don't be worried, I rarely get it on the first try." Ollivander said with a smile at the young boy. Grabbing a seemingly random box, Ollivander gave Harry another wand. "English Oak and unicorn hair." Harry took the wand and waved it, he felt a small twinge in his stomach, but nothing happened.

"Not to worry." Ollivander chimed encouragingly. He walked to a stack of boxes. "I wonder." He whispered to himself as he withdrew a box halfway down the stack. Returning to Harry he removed the wand from the box and held it out to him, watching his expression closely.

Harry took the wand and instantly it produced a series of multicolored sparks. Harry looked at it in awe. The wand was a deep, vibrant crimson with streaks of black spiraling from base to tip. Its handle was straight, with a thinner black portion at the hilt. "Midnight Cedar and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Flexible." Ollivander said quietly. "Very strange."

"What's strange about Midnight Cedar, Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked, his eyes never leaving the wand in his hand."

"Oh it's not the wood." Ollivander said, waving off the idea. "Mignight Cedar is a proud wood, strong, and known to have a penchant for duels, preferring those with quick reactions. Its ideal partner possesses strength of character and unusual loyalty, as well as a goodly portion of perception. People often make the mistake of believing those with cedar wands can be pushed around, but there is iron in a cedar user, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them."

He said all this as if in a daze. "The combination of Midnight Cedar with phoenix feather creates a wand that has limitless potential, able to learn any spell, and being particularly protective of its owner. But that this particular wand is yours, astounding."

"What's so astounding about it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"The phoenix who gave its feather for that wand donated me two feathers. Just two. It is astounding to me that you received this wand, when its brother gave you that scar." He said, pointing at Harry's forehead.

Harry tried to look at his own forehead, a particularly impossible endeavor. "You're saying that V—You-Know-Who and I share feathers from the same phoenix? How can you be sure."

"I remember every wand I've ever made. Hagrid's wand was Oak with a unicorn hair core. Sixteen inches, and springy. Tonks here has a wand of Dogwood with a dragon heartstring core. Twelve inches and firm. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bears a wand of Yew and Phoenix Feather. Thirteen and a half inches. Unyielding."

He looked down at Harry. "Your wand tells me that you have a great destiny about you. After all, its brother did great things. Terrible, but great."

The rest of the transaction was carried out in relative quiet, each person thinking on what Ollivander had said. Harry could not drag his thoughts from the connection between his wand and Voldemorts, wondering what it meant. After Ollivander had been paid he gave Harry a cleaning kit and a wrist holster to which Harry could strap his wand. Harry immediately put it on and slid the wand into place. He felt like he had just rejoined with a fundamental part of himself.

They departed the shop in silence and Hagrid asked for Tonks to accompany Harry as he finished gathering his school supplies. He chatted amiably with the eighteen-year-old Tonks as they drifted from one shop to the next.

"So you're in training to become an auror?" Harry asked excitedly.

"I am." Tonks said with a smile and a wink. In the moments between her eye closing and reopening, it changed from a dark brown to a brilliant blue color. She now stared at Harry with one brown eye and one blue eye. Harry gasped and staggered back a step. After he had recovered and Tonks had stopped laughing for a moment, his questions arose.

"How did you do that? Can you teach me?" He asked quickly.

"I'm a metamorphmagus. It's a skill one has to be born with. It cannot be taught. I didn't expect you to react so well, it was brilliant." At this she winked again, and both eyes were blue.

Harry was amazed. "That's the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

Tonks smiled at him. "I'm glad you find me so incredible, now weren't you asking about auror training?"

Suddenly back on track, Harry began to bombard her with questions. How did one become an auror? What were in an auror's job description? How many auror's were there? What was training like?

Tonks answered the last with a lilting laugh. "Well they test your abilities for most combat-based magics. Defense, potions, disguises, stealth." She let out another laugh at the last. "Dear me, I'm terrible at stealth. My disguises more than make up for it though." She said as her skin suddenly changed pigment, darkening to a dark olive.

"Is it hard?" Harry asked.

"Changing my appearance? Or auror training."

"Both." Harry said inquisitively.

"Well changing my appearance is something I've done since I was a baby. Controlling it took a bit of effort, but once I understood it," her nose changed to a pig's broad snout. "it's like breathing. As for auror training, it is taxing physically, mentally, and magically. I'm constantly having to learn new, difficult spells. And physically I've never been as tired as I have been these last two weeks."

They continued to talk on various topics until Hagrid reunited with them after they had nearly finished Harry's shopping. Harry had his back turned when Hagrid first arrived as he was staring at a bookshelf.

"Happy birthday 'arry!" Hagrid said, causing him to spin around.

In Hagrid's hand was a cage containing a beautiful white snowy owl. "Figurred yeh would enjoy having a way ta contact your 'ogwarts friends during summers."

Harry didn't know what to say. No one had ever bought him a gift. Everything he had received for his previous birthdays was secondhand. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, searching for words as Tonks and Hagrid looked at him with broad smiles. Finally, his thoughts landed on a question.

"What's his name?" He asked.

"Well, it's a she." Hagrid said. "And you get ta name her as she's yers."

Harry looked at the snowy owl and opened her cage, reaching in to brush his fingers over her soft fingers. "What's your name, girl?" he asked softly. The owl hooted appreciatively at his treatment.

Harry remembered a name he had seen in _Hogwarts: A History_ as he flipped through its pages. "Hedwig." He said softly to the owl, who hooted in response. "I think she likes it." Harry said, smiling up at Hagrid.

"Believe she does." Hagrid said, looking at the happy boy.

"Thank you." Harry said. "Thank you so much. I don't even know what to say. I've never had a gift before."

At this, another look was shared between Hagrid and Tonks.

"'arry, when I brought Tonks ta meet you. I talked ta Dumbledore. We agree that yeh can't be going back ta the Dursleys this summer. I brought Tonks 'cause her and her mother have agreed to watch over you until its time for you to go to 'ogwarts. Does that sound alright?"

Harry looked back and forth between the giant and the young girl and became deathly afraid. Tonks and Hagrid were both fine, but he couldn't imagine anyone would be happy to have a wretched, messy-haired boy to take care of. He was certain that Tonks' family wouldn't want him there and would make him leave if he went there. Harry took two unconscious steps backward and looked at the floor, trying to imagine some way he could escape from the conversation.

"Harry," Tonks said. "My parents and I would love to have you stay while you wait for the term to start. And we don't think you should be at the Dursleys either."

Harry wanted to believe her, but found it impossible. "I don't want to cost you." He said quietly. _I don't want you to make me leave. I don't want you to realize how useless I am._ he thought.

Tonks looked at Harry and said, "It's no worry. We'd love to have you. My mother was friends with your parents. She could tell you about them."

At this, Harry made eye contact with her. "Really?"

"Yes, Harry." Tonks said with a small smile. "And I'll make you a potion that'll let you change the color of your eyebrows."

Harry laughed and looked at the two adults. "Alright." He said "When do we leave."

"Right now." Tonks said. And they began their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron.

**A/N: There it is, chapter 6 down. Let me know what y'all think of this one. The changes will be coming faster as the story progresses. Review if you like, review if you hate. I'll respond if I can. Thank you for reading!**

**Where were you when I was left with alibis and lying eyes?**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

**A/N: So to start off, I would like to again say thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. Seriously, you guys are awesome.**

**Now I'm going to rant a little bit. I just read the entirety of **_**Unsung Hero**_** by **MeghansReviews. **I now want to brain myself and forget I ever read it. The story was incredibly intricate, beautifully put together, and wonderfully, horribly well-written. I loved the story, although felt Harry was a bit OP, throughout, and then I reached the ending. I don't want to spoil it for those who might come across it, but suffice to say that it ended with a cliffhanger, and the sequel story was never finished. My soul is wretched and depraved in response to this story. In all honesty, I cannot pay another author a higher compliment than to tell them that their leaving a story unfinished ruined my day because I was so desperately in love with their work. So bravo to MeghansReviews. I sincerely hope that she has gone on to publish her own work and this is the reason she did not finish her series.**

**Whew. That helped a little, just a moderate chest pain now. Hopefully writing this chapter will help ease the rest of it away. **

**Mychakk: I'm hoping to bring in some of the lesser characters and put them in the forefront a bit more. I also dislike the idea of a HuffleHarry, so I wouldn't worry about that too much. As for Snape, he'll be an interesting subject. Imagine what a teenage girl would write in her diary about a friend who fell into the dark arts and hurt her? So many options ; ). **

**MrBojangles3154: I did indeed, each wand is loosely based off of the descriptions of wood meanings on Pottermore. So if I were to mention a wandwood, I have chosen it based off of what I find most meaningful in regards to the character. Hence the reason I changed Harry's wand as well.**

**Mizu-Bozu: That was one of my biggest problems with the originals. The characters just didn't feel real to me. Many of them, Vernon, Snape, and even Voldemort almost seemed like placeholders. I didn't ever feel that Voldemort's motivations were revealed, and that took a lot away from his character for me, because I couldn't understand him. I'm glad you're seeing the changes : ).**

**NathanHale2: I think that reckoning is a bit strong of a word to be using to describe an eleven-year-old's anger. Things will be discussed, but I think it likely that you will be surprised by how the characters weave together. I will say this, it would be a grave mistake to assume that any of the characters has a complete knowledge of anything that is happening anywhere in my story.**

Harry and Tonks walked down Diagon Alley leisurely after Hagrid had left. "So what do you like to do?" She asked Harry casually.

Harry thought through the things that he did at Number Four Privet Drive. "Well I like to read stories, but I can't do it much over the summer."

"Why not?" Tonks asked, puzzled.

"The Dursleys always said that books these days were too full of nonsense. They wouldn't let me read anything except history books. I still read those sometimes, but the stories weren't very good. I like the novels they have at school much better."

Tonks nodded along, taking his words in stride. "Is there anything else you particularly enjoy?"

"Hmm—I'm good at cooking!" Harry said smiling!

Tonks laughed her lilting laugh and looked at the young boy. "You're a good cook? What do you make, peanut butter sandwiches?"

The young boy looked mildly offended. "I can make eggs and bacon, ham steaks, pancakes, and most other normal breakfast foods. I know how to roast poultry, sauté vegetables, and make mashed potatoes. I even know how to make marinades now!"

Harry said this last with a clear pride in his voice. He had been having trouble meeting Petunia's standards when it came to properly mixing the ingredients for a marinade, having only been able to achieve it after almost a dozen tries.

Tonks made an impressed look. "Did you help cook a lot?"

"Well I always cooked breakfast and made lunches most of the time. I just started learning dinners."

"What's your favorite thing that you know how to cook?"

"Well a lot of the things that I know how to make, I've never tried." Harry said casually. Tonks stared at him. He did not change the way he walked. He didn't act as if he had said anything strange at all. This was because he didn't realize that he had.

"Are you saying that the Dursleys didn't let you eat?!" Tonks almost yelled in anger. "You made them food and they just let you rot?!"

Harry cringed back from her voice and became quiet. He hadn't considered that she would be angry. Wasn't it normal for food to be withheld as a punishment? Or for him to have to eat separate meals after he had finished preparing the food? He didn't understand.

"Harry, answer me!" Tonks said, stopping and turning toward him. Harry stopped as well, but didn't open his mouth, looking toward the ground. He wanted to run. He knew that whenever Vernon got as angry as she clearly was, it was best to get away before he looked for something to hurt. Harry fought his instinct to dash away and waited for her to strike him. He wondered what he had done wrong.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Tonks said. "You look sick."

He made eye contact briefly and his eyes darted away. "I'm fine." He said, beginning to walk again, forcing his gait to be casual.

Tonks followed after him silently. Harry felt as if he had done something unacceptable and thought it safer to remain quiet through the heavy silence. They eventually arrived at the apparition entry point for Diagon Alley, just outside of the Leaky Cauldron's mundane entrance. Tonks stopped walking abruptly, as if she had completely forgotten they were moving to a destination.

"Hold tight to my arm, Harry. I'm about to show you how apparition works."

Harry looked up at her and clutched her arm firmly, being careful not to squeeze so hard he would hurt her. "This will be extremely uncomfortable." She said, and suddenly they were off. Harry felt as if his whole body was being shoved through a funnel. He felt as if his body was being distorted before he and Tonks appeared in the middle of a field.

Harry looked around, gaining his bearings. They were on a path that held what appeared to be wheat on either side. In one direction, the path continued for perhaps a hundred feet before curving off and disappearing into the wheat. To the other side, it led into the front yard of a white Victorian-era country house. The yard held a small garden to the left of the path and man-shaped dummies with targets painted on them were scattered throughout.

"I think I might've done that before." Harry said, still looking at the yard, but thinking of the feeling he had just experienced."

"Done what?" Tonks asked quietly. She tried to find what Harry was looking at.

"What we just did. You called it apparition, right?"

Tonks looked at Harry intensely. "That's not possible. Apparition is a practice that proves difficult to many wizards even after they have passed their licensing tests."

Harry became quiet, remembering Vernon shouting at him. "It doesn't exist! It's not possible!" he had said, referring to a science fiction program that Harry had watched where a character could move things with his mind.

Tonks saw his distraught look. "Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you earlier. Or just now for that matter. Tell me why you think you might've apparated before?"

Harry was confused. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I was harsh when you were telling me your story earlier. I can tell it scared you. And just now you got this far-off look, like you were remembering something. I don't want you to think you can't tell me things."

Harry turned his face down in shame. That is just what he had been thinking.

Tonks lowered herself, bringing her face within Harry's range of vision. "So, when might you have apparated?"

Harry met her eyes. "I was running from my cousin and his friend in the school yard so they wouldn't hit me, and then I was just up on the roof. Uncle Vernon was so mad about it."

Tonks stared at the child in front of her. "Well that sounds like it just might have been apparition." She said cheerily. "If it was, that means you're very strong at magic. We'll have to do some tests once you get settled in."

Ushering Harry up the wooden porch and into the house, Tonks introduced him to her parents, Ted and Andromeda Tonks. They seemed very nice, Harry thought as he watched them each get up to hug their daughter when they arrived. He watched their interactions closely, Andromeda placing her hand casually on Ted's arm while speaking, Ted placing his arm around her protectively. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.

After a few minutes of chit-chat, Andromeda brought Harry upstairs. "This will be your room, dear." She said maternally, opening a door into a small room with blue walls. Harry looked around, startled. The room was not large. It held a small bed, a writing desk, and a single window allowed sunlight to stream in from the outside. Harry was shellshocked that this could all be for him.

Seeing Harry's speechless state, Andromeda gestured to the potato bag Harry held along with the bags filled with today's purchases and said "I'll just give you a minute to unpack your things. And Harry dear, I want you to know that we are so happy to have you here." After this, she exited the room.

Harry sat in the empty room and began to empty his possessions from the bags holding them. He stacked the books in front of the writing desk and placed his parents' journals on the desk above them. Harry then unpacked the various odds and ends that his schooling required. Placing inkwells, quills, and ink together on the top of the desk. When he had finished, Harry sat at the small wooden chair in front of the writing desk.

Opening his mother's diary, he flipped to the first entry. It read:

_April 29__th__, 1971_

_I don't know how to start this. I've never just written out what I'm thinking before. Daddy bought me this journal and said that it would help keep me from going insane. I don't know quite what he meant, but it seems important to him that I try it._

_Anyway, today I talked with the Prince. He was waiting for me by Bellevue Pond. He finally explained what he meant when he told Tunie that I was special and she wasn't. He said I was a witch and that I would be able to go to a magical school next year. He said that Petunia would have to stay home because she wasn't a witch. He called her something strange. Muggie? Mugger? I can't remember. Petunia got upset when he told me I was a witch and made me come home with her._

_I know I can do special things, but I don't know if I'd want to go to a school without my sister. She'd be so lonely here. I know I wouldn't want her to leave me like that. Maybe we can bring Petunia along?_

After this it was clear that Lily had become distracted and began drawing flowers on the page, as there was a blank space that held only a few crude drawings.

_Well, that's all I've got for today and it's dinner time. I don't know how to end this. See you later? I'll be back? It seems odd to say goodbye to a book, but if I'm gonna do it, I'll do it right._

_With love,_

_Lily Evans_

She signed the last with an elegant swirling flourish that had clearly been practiced and refined into the perfection Harry saw on the page. He turned to the next page and was about to begin reading when he saw a cramped script at the top that had clearly been added to the entry.

"Don't read all of these at once, Harry." It declared. "Your father and I never managed to write in these every day. Spread them out so that it'll last longer. You'll also notice that these books seem to have many more pages once you open them than they did when closed. That was a special enchantment your father created when I reached the end of this diary. We both love you so much Harry."

An arrow was drawn from the end of the added note to the bottom of the page, where there had been no room. A lipstick kiss was preserved by the pages, clearly from Lily's lips. Next to it was a poor drawing of lips with a note off to the side.

"Your mom wanted me to wear lipstick and do the same thing. I refused. Remember Harry, there are a lot of things that a woman can ask you, but you should never wear her clothing or her makeup. She'll never be able to get the image of you with mascara and blush out of her head. Ask your uncle Sirius about his experience with Susan Bones for an explanation. Your mother says my handwriting is atrocious, I think it's a proper man's handwriting. Just illegible enough that anyone snooping wouldn't be able to read a jot. The explanation for that spell your mother mentioned is on the back of this page. It's a spell I found particularly useful in Professor Binns' class. I hope you know how much we love you, son."

Harry was laughing out loud at his father's note. He read the notes several times and read the diary entry as well, finding nothing of particular interest, but it didn't matter. Here it was; a living connection to his past. He loved every word, every bit of ink, every smudge. They were all he had to teach him of his parents' lives.

Tonks gently knocked on his door. "Time for dinner, Harry!" She called into the room.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The next two months flew by in a rush for Harry. He found that he had more time than he knew what to do with. He read through his schoolbooks passionately, hoping that he could somehow catch up to all those who had been raised in the wizarding world by reading. Each morning he rose and helped the Tonks with preparing breakfast, having resisted their initial objections. He helped with chores around the house when possible. Harry realized at one point that, although he was doing the same amount of work he had been tasked with at the Dursleys, he held no sense of frustration or annoyance about the work because he cared about the people who he was helping. He did it by choice, not by force.

Andromeda and Ted, as they insisted Harry call them, were incredibly kind, and Harry enjoyed spending time with them when Tonks wasn't around. They would tell him stories of his parents at Hogwarts. They had been several years senior to his parents, so the stories were limited, but Harry cherished them.

There was still occasionally the awkward moment when one of them would attempt to touch Harry without thinking and he would flinch away. Occasionally, he would say something about his time with the Dursleys thoughtlessly and he would see the looks of frustration on the faces of those around him, so he did his best not to mention anything about them.

Harry grew particularly close to Tonks in this time, as she was somewhat closer to his age. One day, she returned home from auror training and asked Harry if he would like her to begin teaching him some spellcasting. Harry lit up with joy and responded a fervent yes. She told him to meet her outside in a half hour after she had showered.

Harry stood outside waiting on the porch when she finally came out of the house. "Are you ready for your first lesson, Harry?" Tonks said brightly. Her hair was blond today and she had lengthened it until it was hanging to just below her breasts in tight curls. Harry nodded at her question and responded, "What spell are you going to teach me?"

Tonks smiled. "I feel that a good first spell for you would be the reparo spell. It will fix any broken thing within the caster's skill level. For example," she pointed to a shovel that had had its head broken off and sat near the garden, flicking her wand. "Reparo." She commanded. Harry watched as the two pieces of the shovel sprang toward each other and the wooden fibers knit back together. Harry was fascinated and ran to the shovel, picking it up and inspecting it.

"That's amazing!" he said enthusiastically.

Tonks had a bright smile on her face, clearly enjoying Harry's virginal enthusiasm. "There are some rules to this spell." She said to Harry. "Firstly, this spell will not repair enchantments, wardings, or body parts, obviously. Do you remember what an enchantment is?"

"An enchantment is a spell that is placed on something that will give it magical attributes." He quoted from _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling. "Wardings are symbols that are imbued with magical power that act in much the same way as enchantments. Each of these spell types can also be used to make shields."

Tonks smiled at Harry, somewhat surprised. "I see you've been reading through your schoolbooks."

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry responded excitedly. "Magic is incredible; of course I want to learn as much as I can about it. It's going to be hard enough to catch up with everyone from wizarding families as it is."

"Very astute thinking," Tonks said. "But I think you're overestimating how much the wizarding children will have learned. Many of them put little value in their studies before they arrive at whatever magical school they attend."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Don't they want to be good magicians? With magic you can do impossible things, and…" He trailed off as Tonks chuckled lightly at him. "Many students don't find magic so incredible as you do. Many view it as just another thing they _have_ to do, only focusing on the specific pieces they actually want to learn."

Harry thought about this briefly before his smile returned. "Well I want to be the best I can at it. What're the other rules for the spell?"

"The second rule is something that applies to all magic, but is particularly relevant when referring to this spell. All magic is powered by your magical core." She explained. Harry had already broached this subject in his books, but was confused on the finer points, so he listened intently. "The larger the job required, the more it will pull from your magical core. For example, fixing that wooden shovel pulled a very small amount from my magical core, but if I were to attempt to repair the foundations of a house, that would take a considerably larger amount. I might be able to do it, but it would most likely leave me tired."

"Is there a way to make your magical core bigger?" Harry asked the question excitedly, having been wondering about it since he read about magical cores.

"There is." Tonks said. "In fact, a large portion of my auror training is meant to do just that. Your magical core will expand as you exercise it. So the more magic you do, the more you push your limit, the more it will expand. Your core also expands as you become more physically fit. Therefore a man who exercises his body will also have a larger magical core."

Harry nodded along, grateful for the information. "Are there any other rules?"

"The last rule is another that applies to all magic. There are two requirements for any spell: power and skill. The more powerfully a wizard casts a spell, the more effective it will be, but if the man has no skill, he will have to use much more power to achieve the same result as a more skilled caster. In the case of the reparo, this means that if a person lacks the magical skill to cast the spell, or underpowers the spell, it will not completely repair the item on which it is cast. For simple castings, it is quite easy to meet this requirement, but as a spell becomes more difficult it becomes exponentially harder."

"When applied to other spells, this rule causes great complexity of spellwork. An apprentice enchanter may be able to enchant a hat so that it will block curses, but the enchantment will fade. However, if a master were to apply the same spell, it would be much more powerful and last much longer. This means that many spells cast inefficiently will fade and have to be reapplied over time. And in the case of a poorly cast reparo, that will lead to the same break repeating itself until it is fixed properly."

Taking the shovel from Harry's hand, Tonks spoke again. "I purposefully repaired this shovel poorly." She said as she smashed the head into the ground, breaking it in much the same way it had been initially broken. "This is what will happen if a spell is not cast properly. It will never truly succeed."

Harry nodded seriously, staring at the break and promising to himself that he would not do shoddy work. "Alright, now it's your turn." Tonks said, dropping the shaft of the shovel to lay next to the head. Harry adjusted his glasses nervously, looking up to Tonks and back down to the shovel. He remembered his Magical Theory text.

"The basic process of doing magic involves creating a connection to one's magical core and transmitting it out into the world with a specific intent." It read. "A spellcaster is greatly aided in making this connection through the use of a wand, which, having its own magical affinity, can reach out into his magic to help provide the connection." Harry certainly knew that he could easier connect to his magical core now that he held a wand. He had not yet attempted a spell, but the same feeling of power that came over him previously when he had wandlessly done magic was now a presence he could feel at any time. He could feel his core.

Harry looked at the shovel and reached deep into his magical core. Pointing his crimson wand at the shovel and tugged at his core, pulling as much power as he could manage and pressing it through his wand and into the world as he spoke, "Reparo!"

The two pieces of the shovel jumped back together rapidly and then sat unmoving on the ground. Harry felt a portion of the power he had been feeling since he received his wand disappear.

"Impressive." Tonks said. "I didn't think you'd be able to do it on your first try. Now let's see how well you cast the spell."

She took the shovel and pressed the head against the ground, lightly at first, then with more pressure. Frowning at the shovel when it did not break, Tonks placed a foot atop its shaft and began to press onto it with her body weight.

Nothing happened. The shovel stayed stoically in one piece, refusing to be broken. She looked at Harry, flabbergasted. "How did you do this, Harry?"

"What do you mean?" He responded, confused. "I used the reparo."

"But how did you make it so sturdy?" Tonks asked. "For that being the first spell you've cast, its much stronger than it should've been."

"Well it isn't quite the first spell I've ever cast." Harry admitted. "I once made a key appear in a locked room." He carefully avoided the fact that he had been locked in the room without food for days.

"Yes, but that's accidental magic. This is different. You meant to do this."

"I meant to do that, too." Harry protested. "I was trying to do it, for hours before it worked."

Tonks looked at Harry unbelievingly. "You did this without a wand?" she asked.

"Of course. This was before I had even met Hagrid."

Tonks mouth was slightly open as she looked at him. "Well, perhaps you're just stronger than I expected." She recovered before they returned inside.

This turned out to be the first of many lessons for Harry before he returned to Hogwarts, going out with Tonks once or twice per week to begin work on a new spell. And leading into the week before his departure he had already mastered the Reparo Spell, the knockback jinx, and the fire charm. He had begun working on the levitation charm, but found that he had trouble replicating the exactness of the wand movement.

Two nights before his departure for Hogwarts, Harry was again reading his mother's journal in his room.

_July 15__th__, 1971_

_A letter came today from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry inviting me to attend. My parents were excited as they read it. I think they were relieved that there's an explanation for what I do. I talked to Prince about it and he said I should go, that that's where he's going. Part of me wants to go and learn about what I can do. _

_I don't want to leave Tunie though. She's upset because she didn't get a letter. I think I'm going to tell my parents that I want to stay here with her. _

_I'm done for today. I need to think._

_Lily Evans_

Harry found this particularly interesting and read several of the journal entries quickly. Each one progressed forward, showing how they had appealed Hogwarts to see if Petunia could attend, but were unfortunately denied. Harry's mother was clearly torn about what to do, and Harry understood her perfectly. He understood the desire to not hurt someone by your actions. He then came to a very interesting entry.

_July 29__th__, 1971_

_Petunia screamed at me today. She told me that she didn't want me around anymore and that I should go be with people who were freaks like me. She told me that me and Prince deserve each other. That we should both be sent away where all the freaks go. _

_She's been so mean to me since the letter came. I don't want to make her sad, but mom said it would be best for me to go. She thinks that I have a gift. Today my parents sent the letter to Hogwarts to say that I will be attending this year. I'm so sad. I won't know anyone but Prince. _

_Lily Evans_

He stopped reading after that. Instead heading to dinner. After they had eaten, Tonks made him cover his eyes with his hands and wait in the living room as she retrieved something. When she returned and told Harry he could open his eyes, there was a large wooden trunk sitting at his feet. Harry looked at her in disbelief.

"You—You didn't have to do this." He said.

"No, but I wanted to." Tonks said happily. "Every Hogwarts student needs a good trunk, and I can't have you forgetting me when you leave." She paused after this for a moment, then said, "Why don't you open it, Harry?"

Harry looked at the trunk and unclasped the locks before lifting the lid. When he did, he saw dozens of wizards pictures of himself and Tonks had been secured to the underside of the lid. There were pictures of the two training, pictures where they posed for the camera, and one picture where both laid on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Andromeda had been snapping photos of anything and everything since Harry had arrived, but he never expected anything to come of it.

"I—I…" Tears filled Harry's eyes. He couldn't begin to fathom what he should say. Tonks smiled at him.

"I know, Harry. You deserve it."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The morning of September 1st, Harry and Tonks departed for King's Cross Station. Ted and Andromeda gave Harry warm goodbyes and told him he was welcome back at any time before Tonks and he left. Tonks led Harry out to the street where she held out her wand and the Knight Bus appeared. They loaded Harry's pack onto the bus and secured themselves firmly in seats, bracing themselves for the Knight Bus's violent starts and stops.

When they arrived at King's Cross Station, Harry paid Stan, and they left the bus. Just before they entered the station, Tonks stopped. Harry looked back at her and waited, seeing that she clearly had something to say. She knelt in front of him, meeting his eye level.

"Harry, have fun at Hogwarts. It's one of the best places in the world, and has some of the most wonderful people as well."

"Alright." Harry said, somewhat confused, as she'd said almost the exact same thing on the ride there.

"You're an amazing person, Harry. You really can stay with me any time you like. You're part of the family now." Harry was shocked at her words and had no idea what to say. He started to withdraw into himself, afraid, but not knowing what he was afraid of.

"Harry, look at me." He did as she asked.

Tonks smiled at Harry and lightly touched his hand. He attempted not to shy away, but visibly stiffened all the same. "You're going to be an amazing wizard Harry. Better than me. Probably better than anyone I know." She said this with conviction.

"Wait 'til they get a load of you." She said with a broad smile. "From what I've heard of your father, you'll be the prankster of a generation."

Suddenly, Harry remembered something he had forgotten to ask. "Who's Sirius? My mother's diary mentioned him."

Tonks eyes darkened and she backed away, clearly not wanting to respond. "He was a traitor." She said with a viciousness in her voice that Harry had never heard before. "He was a friend of your parents, but joined Voldemort in the last war, and now he's rotting in Azkaban Prison, where he belongs."

Harry had heard the Tonks speak of Azkaban before. He knew no details, but from the way they had reverently and fearfully spoken the name he understood that it was the worst of places.

Tonks was clearly done with this conversation and she walked in front of Harry's trolley that held his trunk and Hedwig into the station. As they approached the pillar bearing the signs for platforms nine and ten, Harry began to look around for some middle area.

Tonks walked directly toward the pillar and stopped when she was a dozen steps away.

"You'll need this." She said to Harry as she handed him a train ticket. "I'll miss you when you're at Hogwarts."

Her statement just made Harry feel awkward. He wanted to say he would miss her too, that these last two months had been the best of his life, but he was afraid that even speaking a word would cause his luck to change. That something horrible would prevent him from ever making it back to the Tonks, so he just nodded.

Just then a bell began to chime, signaling it was quarter to eleven.

"Oh!" Tonks said surprised. "You must be going or else you won't make the train. Follow me."

After she said this, Tonks darted straight into the sign-bearing, brick pillar and vanished. Harry was confused, and then suddenly realized there must be some sort of portal in the pillar. He dashed after her with his trolley and came out the other side on platform nine and three quarters.

A large train stood in the station bearing the words _Hogwarts Express_ painted in red on the side. Harry saw dozens of children kissing their parents goodbye and loading their trunks onto the train. He and Tonks stopped near the stairs leading to the train.

"I'll see you next summer." Tonks said firmly.

Harry looked at her. "Really?" he asked with far too much excitement in his voice.

"Without a doubt." She replied with a final smile. "Now go, it's time to leave. You can't be late your first day."

With that, Harry stepped onto the train and pulled his trunk along with him, walking down the aisle until he found an empty compartment that he entered and stowed his trunk in the rack near the ceiling.

**A/N: Chapter 7 is done! Review and let me know what you think! Next chapter should be up tomorrow! Again, thank you so much for reading, I hope all of you continue to enjoy the story! **

**Where were you when I was listening to Freddie Mercury?**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Hogwarts Express

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing and reading this. It really is amazing to see people responding like this to something I'm writing. **

**MrBojangles3154: I have no intention to do any bashing of anyone in this fic. I will, however, be attempting to bring each person's true character more to the forefront and try to make them more realistic. That being said, I think that there are some negatives to Ron's character that this fic will bring out. I will not be specifically bashing him though.**

**Penny is wise: That will be revealed in time : ) .**

**NathanHale2: I agree entirely with everything you've said. Make no mistake, it will be addressed. There just might be a difference between what you're expecting and what happens.**

**Anotherboarduser: I think that in the end, you will be satisfied with what happens between Harry and the Dursleys. I will not be addressing this situation immediately, but it will be addressed.**

**Mychakk: I'm glad you've enjoyed it thus far. There's nothing like seeing people responding to something I've written in this way. As for him going to the Tonks rather than the Weasleys, I will certainly be giving him some time at the Burrow, but I feel that if he were to go now, with his current emotional state, the Weasleys would overwhelm him entirely.**

Harry sat on a red vinyl cushion aboard the unmoving Hogwarts Express with _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _in his hand. As he lay there reading on the various spells he would have to learn throughout the year, it occurred to him that Hedwig might enjoy arriving flying to Hogwarts on her own. Standing, Harry extricated her from her cage and walked out to one of the train's entrances. People were pouring in still, so Harry was forced to stand awkwardly with the snowy owl perched on his arm while person after person shuffled past him. Finally, a break in the torrent occurred and Harry raised his arm out of the train.

"I'll see you there girl." He said to the owl. Hedwig hooted in response and took off in a flurry of flapping wings. Before Harry had the chance to return to his chosen compartment, he was startled by the appearance of a brown-haired girl rushing past him through the hallway with tears streaming down her face. Harry followed her with his eyes as she continued down the corridor. As Harry walked back to his corridor behind the girl, she dropped one of the several books she had clutched in the crook of her arm.

Taking a quick step to catch up as the crying girl looked down at the semi-unreachable book, Harry bent down and picked it up for her. "Here." He said quietly, meeting her gaze for the first time.

When Harry saw the girl's brown eyes he inhaled, almost gasped, in recognition. Her eyes were the color of milk chocolate. She had brown, bushy hair that extended down to her chest. Her face was soft, with angled jawline and she was just slightly taller than Harry. It was the girl from the zoo. She looked at him for a longer moment than was entirely acceptable with a somewhat puzzled look on her face.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she spoke. "Thank you." She said primly, as if trying to use her voice to remove her introductory tear-streaked appearance.

They watched each other warily, as two animals watch each other having first met.

"I'm Hermione." She said, breaking the silence between them and holding her hand out to Harry.

"I'm Harry." Harry responded a bit nervously as he lightly grasped the proffered hand. He wasn't sure if he should remind her of the zoo or not. It seemed as if she didn't remember him, and he didn't want to seem strange.

Hermione sniffled softly as Harry looked at her wet face. "Are you alright?" He asked. He was unsure if the question was appropriate, but it was all he could think of.

"I'll be fine." Hermione said, shrugging off his question. Another silence began to build between the two, taking on its own life and gaining an almost physical presence. A pair of redheaded twins boarded the bus and stopped briefly behind Harry.

"Oy! Let's move it!" One of them shouted. "You can get to your snogging in your compartment!" the other finished.

Both Harry and Hermione turned a violent red and began walking. They reached Harry's claimed compartment and he slid open the door. He looked at Hermione, gesturing to the open door. "I'm in here. If you'd like…" He trailed off, unsure of how to word his request. He had never been around people his age, and he certainly didn't know how to speak to pretty young girls, and he found this girl beautiful.

Hermione nodded and entered, understanding his unspoken question. She entered and stashed her trunk in the upper storage space and sat down across from Harry. They allowed the pink to fade from each of their cheeks before either spoke.

"Thank you for helping me." Hermione mustered. "It wasn't the easiest decision to come here. I was worried about not knowing anyone."

"Of course." Harry said with a smile. "I kindof had the same fear." He admitted.

At this, Hermione's expression brightened. "So you're a muggleborn too?"

Harry shook his head. "No, well, not exactly. It's a bit confusing."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked inquisitively.

"My parents were killed when I was young. I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They're muggles."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "How'd they die?"

Just as Harry was about to answer, there was a knock at the door before it slid open. A redhead that looked to be the same age as Harry stood beyond it. "Mind if I come in here?" He asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked at Hermione, as if for guidance, and, seeing nothing except a vaguely puzzled look, turned back to the boy. "Come on in." He said with a small smile. It would be much easier to talk to a boy, at least he had experience from Dudley.

The boy shuffled in and stowed his trunk. "Blimey, I thought I was never gonna find a seat." The redhead said, slumping down next to Harry. He wore robes that were clearly secondhand, just as Harry's muggle clothing was. Harry recognized all the telltale signs: torn seams, patched knees, and a ripped hemline. "I'm Ronald Weasley, by the way. You can call me Ron, though." The boy held out his hand.

Harry was reaching to grasp the boy's hand when Hermione suddenly burst out, "You're the boy from the zoo!"

Harry looked up sheepishly, as if he had been caught. "I wasn't sure if you'd remember me."

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I've been sitting here wondering why you look familiar. You should've told me."

"I didn't want to seem strange. I didn't know if you had even noticed me that day."

"Of course I did, you vanished the glass."

"How did you know it was me?" Harry asked.

Hermione gave him a dry look. "You shouted at the boy who pushed me and then the glass disappeared, it wasn't hard to figure out. Especially not once you got that guilty look on your face."

Harry looked at Hermione's face. He was surprised both by her remembrance and by the intelligence she had shown in discerning that he had been the cause in the first place. She met his eyes, as if in challenge; what challenge that was, Harry had no notion.

"I didn't realize I was so obvious." Harry said quietly.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond when Ron interrupted. "What is it you two are on about, then? I'm quite confused, here."

Looking at Ron, Hermione responded. "I've met him before. Also, I'm Hermione Granger."

Harry suddenly remembered his outstretched hand, and closed the gap between his and Ronald's, shaking it firmly. "I'm Harry Potter."

There were several long moments of silence, accompanied by startled facial expressions from both Ron and Hermione. Harry realized that somewhere in the past two months with the Tonks, he had misplaced the thought that he was famous. He hadn't quite forgotten, just left the idea in the corner of the room under a blanket.

"You're _the_ Harry Potter?" Ron asked. "With the scar and everything?"

Harry nodded slowly as Ron and Hermione's eyes locked to his forehead.

"Can I see it?" Ronald prompted lightly, clearly worried about Harry taking offense.

Harry felt somewhat awkward as he nodded and lifted the hair that covered the lightning-shaped scar. Hermione let out a small gasp as she looked at it.

"Wicked." Ronald said with a satisfied grin. "I've never met a celebrity before."

"What's that?" Harry said after a pause, hoping to redirect the conversation by pointing out what was clearly a rat that Ron held in his hands.

Ron looked at his own hands, as if in surprise. "Oh, this is Scabbers, he's my pet rat. Got him from my brother Charlie last year." He explained quickly. "So what's it like to be famous?

Harry's sense of discomfort increased moment by moment as he ignored the question. He looked to Hermione for some sort of salvation, but all he found was a thoughtful look. "I've read about you. I did some extra reading so I could fit in here and you were mentioned in several books on recent history."

"Really?" Harry asked. He had no idea that there were books about him. He had never considered that Voldemort's destruction was _that_ important.

"Well of course!" Ron chimed in. "You killed You-Know-Who, didn't you? He was the most powerful dark wizard that ever lived."

Harry nodded at Ron, trying to think of some response in words, but failing.

"Is it true, then?" Hermione asked quietly, almost reluctantly. It was as if she was scared of the question, but some inner force required her to speak.

"Is what true?"

"The books all said that the night You-Know-Who came to your house, you were the only one who survived…" She trailed off, leaving an unspoken question drifting in the air above the trio.

Harry nodded. "My parents died trying to save me. Tonks told me that my father destroyed half the house trying to keep Voldemort away from me." He said all this in an even, measured tone that did not in any way match his emotions.

Hermione didn't so much as flinch at Voldemort's name, but Ron nearly jumped from their shared compartment. "Don't say his name!" He said startled.

Rather than respond to Ronald's request, Harry remained quiet. His mind had been set adrift, he was thinking about his life at the Dursleys and what it would have been like had his parents been around. This was a fantasy that had played heavily in Harry's thoughts since he had found out what really happened to his parents.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Hermione said from the bench she occupied alone.

At that moment, Ron's startled expression fell into one of thoughtfulness, as if only just realizing that Harry had just told them about his parents being murdered. "Where did you stay? After they—After it happened?"

This was one subject Harry had learned not to approach from his stay with the Tonks and he searched his brain for some way to change the subject into a safer territory, when the compartment door slid open, saving him. Standing at the other side of the door was a women with a trolley covered in treats and snacks. "Anyone hungry?" She asked cheerfully.

"I'm fine, thanks." Ron said, holding out some sort of coagulated mess that may have once been a sandwich, but now appeared to have been severely crushed out of shape. Harry cast a glance at it and understood Ron's motivation. He didn't have money for any alternative. Looking at Hermione and Ron in front of him, Harry smiled.

Ten minutes later, after each had consumed several snacks, conversation resumed. "Have you ever had a chocolate frog, Harry? They're amazing!" He gestured at one of the boxes. Hermione leaned forward slightly as Harry opened it.

"I haven't, actually." He said as he pulled out a wriggling frog. It leapt from his grasp as he raised it, landing on the vinyl seat cushion. Harry grasped toward it and it jumped onto the wall behind him. He was just turning when it made a final jump toward the open window of the train.

"Immobulus!" Hermione incanted, pointing her wand at the frog in mid-air. It froze completely and Harry caught it just before it struck the ground.

"Blimey, how did you do that?" Ron gaped at Hermione.

"It's only a simple freezing spell. I've been practicing some of the spells I've heard about since I found out I would be attending Hogwarts. Do you know any spells?" She asked with an interested look in her eyes.

"Well there is one." Ron said with an uncomfortable look on his face. "My brother's, Fred and George, taught it to me." He frowned at the rat that sat on his lap comfortably. "I guess I can try it."

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He flicked his wand toward the rat at the end of his spell, but nothing happened. He flicked the wand toward it several more times as if extra movement would increase the spell's effectiveness.

"I don't think that's a real spell." Hermione said confidently. "What was it supposed to do?"

"Turn the rat yellow." Ron muttered. "Fred and George must've thought it would be quite funny, me trying to use a spell that doesn't work."

"Well don't feel bad." Hermione said. "I'm sure that if it were real you could do it. After all, I've been able to do all the spells I've tried so far without a problem."

The door opened again and a round-faced boy with dark hair appeared. He was clearly upset, his cheeks red and his eyes watery. "Have you seen a toad?"

The trio in the compartment each shook their heads and his face fell. "His name's Trevor. If you see it, he belongs to me. My name's Neville. Let me know if you find him?"

"I'll help you look." Hermione said. "You two should probably get your robes on. We're going to be at Hogwarts soon."

As Hermione left the compartment, Ronald turned to Harry. "Whatever house she's in, I hope I'm not in it."

"Why not?" Harry asked. Ron's statement bothered him. It wasn't exactly anger that he felt, but something about Ron's words had caused a rise in him.

"She seems like a know-it-all." Ron said. "Oh, all the spells I've tried have worked." He said in a poor imitation of Hermione's voice.

"I rather liked her." Harry said, and they left it at that.

They threw their Hogwarts robes on over their regular clothing. Harry wondered if that was how wizards always wore their robes, considering that the only alternative would be for the students to change in front of each other, which seemed altogether scandalous to Harry. He and Ron made small talk until the train slowed as they arrived. Gathering their things, Harry and Ron exited the compartment and entered the river of students heading for the exit.

There was rain pouring from the dark sky and the ground in front of the train's steps had become muddy from the many students walking over it. They were in a rudimental train station, the ground they walked was gravel, rather than concrete, and there were no platform numbers. To their right as they exited the train was a large lake with a tall castle resting on its far side. To the left was the silhouette of what appeared to be a small town.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way! Four to a boat!" Harry heard a familiar voice call. Turning, he saw the large man he was looking for.

"Hagrid!" He shouted, happy to have someone whom he had at least some experience with.

"'arry my boy! It's good ta see you. Hurry along. We wouldn't want yeh to be late ta the sorting!"

Ronald and Harry walked toward Hagrid and he ushered them onto an empty boat. Harry gazed across the lake at the magnificent castle and felt the weight of the boat shift. Looking back, he saw Neville stepping onto the boat with Hermione following close behind. She stepped uneasily over the side of the boat and nearly fell into the cold water before Harry reached his hand up and gripped her arm to steady her.

"Thank you." She said, her voice thick with nervousness and discomfort.

"Did you find your toad, Neville?" Ron asked.

Neville held it up for all of them to see. "Hermione found Trevor actually, she cornered him underneath a seat near the back of the train."

They sat there as the fleet of rowboats was loaded with first year students. When the boats eventually launched, they rowed themselves. Harry watched the movements of the rowboats carefully, amazed at a type of magic he had not yet seen.

"So," Neville began. "Which house are you hoping to be in? My gran wants me to be in Gryffindor like my da', but I don't know if I'm brave enough." He finished sulkily.

"All my family's been in Gryffindor. Me mum and da' and all my siblings." Ronald said. "It'd be embarrassing if I ended up anywhere else. Especially in Slytherin. My parents hate Slytherin House. You-Know-Who was from Slytherin after all."

"I've given it a lot of thought and I think I'd prefer Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. I mean all of the houses have their merits, but Slytherin focuses on ambition and isn't the most loyal; Hufflepuff is all about hard work, but they don't focus enough on individualism; Ravenclaw, however, is based on intelligence and knowledge, which are inarguably vital to success; and Gryffindor is based on bravery and nobility, which are both good goals." Hermione finished her mini-soliloquy and took in a quick breath.

Harry sat there for a moment before realizing that every eye was now locked on him, clearly expecting his response. "I'd like to be in Gryffindor. It's where my mum and dad were from."

This seemed to appease the curiosity of those on board, and silence reigned until they reached the other side of the lake. They each exited the boat, Harry lending a helping hand to Hermione as she stepped onto the slick ground, and followed Hagrid up a hill to the castle entrance. They climbed the stairs and the wooden double doors swung open for them to enter.

Students began to shake out their now-soaked robes one by one, scattering droplets of water across the stone stairs in the entranceway. They were at the peak of a grand stone staircase with vaulted cathedral ceilings and they waited before another wooden door. As they shuffled from foot to foot in nervousness, a poorly-aimed shaking of a hat struck Neville's arm, causing him to drop Trevor with a squeak.

The boy who had struck Neville laughed. "Idiot can't even keep hold of his own pet!" He said smugly. Harry looked up and saw Draco Malfoy staring down at Neville. "What's your name?" Draco demanded.

"Neville Longbottom."

"You actually came?" Draco said incredulously. "I heard you were half-squib!" Behind Draco stood several other boys who chuckled along at his wit. Neville turned an impressive shade of red at his words.

"What's a squib?" Harry asked Ron in a whisper.

"It's someone from a magic family who can't do magic."

Just then, Trevor the toad began to hop away but Hermione caught him as she had the chocolate frog, sending a freezing charm to halt the toad.

"And who have we here?" Draco said, looking impressed.

"I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione said proudly.

"Granger. That's not a name I'm familiar with, and I know most of the pureblood families as my father's so highly ranked. Are you from out of the country?"

"My parents weren't wizards." Hermione said, much less confident now. Draco lunged back, repulsed.

"A _muggleborn?_" He whispered in shock. "Let's go boys, we don't want her to rub off on us." Another set of laughs arose at his newest joke.

Casting a look at Harry and Ron, Draco's expression changed. "Ahh, it's Harry Potter. Do you remember what I told you when we last met? I can show you who can help you in the wizarding world. Get you away from ravel like that Weasley." he gestured to Ron. "I can't believe there's more of you. Father always did say that you were poor wizards who bred themselves into the ground."

Turning his attention back to Harry as Ron fumed, Draco said, "The Malfoy name goes a long way around these parts. I can be valuable to you."

"No thanks." Harry replied. "I'm quite sure I don't need anything a pompous git like you can offer me." Draco stepped back, clearly affronted. Harry's temper had been rising since the boy started speaking. He was a bully, and Harry had had enough of bullying at the Dursley's to last a lifetime.

"What did you say to me?" Draco asked.

"I said sod off and leave my friends alone."

Draco was about to reply when the great wooden door in front of them was thrown open and an old witch came out.

"First years!" She called. "I am Professor McGonagall. If you will please follow me down the hall, it is time for the Sorting Ceremony to begin!"

**A/N: Chapter 8 is done! Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading and please review!**

**Where were you when I was the weakest?**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Sorting Hat

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed! You guys are what makes writing this story so fun! Now the moment of truth comes, the sorting. I've had several people tell me that they would prefer a Slytherin or Ravenclaw Harry over Gryffindor. No one has really espoused a HuffleHarry, however. In the end, I hope that my choice does not alienate anyone who was hoping for one thing or another. As I said, I'm trying to write what I think would actually happen given Harry's character. Again, I don't own Harry Potter.**

**TrunksLoneWarrioranimelove: Thank you for the kind words, it's really good to hear that someone appreciates what I'm writing. As for Harry's house, see above^^. I do have a specific plan and his house is a part of that. One thing that you won't have to worry about is 'wimpyness'. Harry has, so far, been far wimpier than I plan on him being throughout the series.**

**Mizu-Bozu: I think that Ron had a very unique upbringing and his character in canon didn't reflect that all that well. My goal is to present Ron as more of a human, with defining traits, rather than some poorly relating boy. Too often in fanfics he's passed off as being stupid or evil and is given next to no attention.**

They filed through the large wooden door and into a wide stone hallway. The walls held paintings that watched them as they walked past. There were torches that lit the walkway from either side, some of which chose to change colors without pattern. Harry followed McGonagall with the crowd of students as she led them down the hallway and turned right, as an iron-bound wooden door swung open for her.

Passing through the doorway, Harry and his fellow students entered an enormous hall. The stones of the floor were of a deep gray, seamlessly meeting the brown stone walls. The ceiling bore the same stormy sky that had been outside, occasionally punctuated by lightning strikes. Candles were everywhere, floating any which way they chose. In the center of the room, a large candle chandelier levitated.

Gesturing at the sky, Hermione said to Harry, "It's bewitched to be an exact image of the sky outside, I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_." Ron shot Hermione an annoyed look as she spoke and she seemed to shrink inward somewhat. Looking first at Ron, until he dropped his gaze, and then to Hermione, Harry whispered. "That's very interesting." She smiled at this.

The line of students walked through the center of the hall parallel to the four incredibly long tables. Harry's eyes glanced from table to table. Each table was inhabited by over a hundred students and bore flags on each end with their house's sigil. On the far left was the Slytherin table, draped in cloth of silver and forest green and bearing a snake on their flag. The inner left belonged to Hufflepuff, and as such was covered in black and yellow, a badger presiding over their meals. The inner right table was decorated with draperies of blue and bronze, its flag bore a resplendent eagle, the sign of Ravenclaw. Lastly, the far right tablecloth was crimson and gold and a lion glared out menacingly from the Gryffindor flag. Floating at the end of each table were shimmering, indistinct beings.

At the far end of the hall was a raised stage bearing a stool with a hat atop it. To the left of the stage was a dais upon which a fifth, smaller table sat with about two dozen chairs, mostly filled by adults who watched the procession stoically. When they reached the foot of the stage, McGonagall motioned for the students to halt as she walked to the right and climbed onto the stage to stand in its center.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts House Sorting Ceremony!" She didn't quite call this out, but as the room had become completely silent when she mounted the stage, her voice echoed back from each wall after she spoke. "First years will be called onto the stage alphabetically to be placed with the house they shall reside in until they graduate."

When she had finished speaking, a seam ripped open in the sorting hat, creating a grim imitation of a mouth, with draped shadows for eyes. It took a moment, looking out at the first years, before opening its seam of a mouth and beginning to sing.

"Oh, well I may not be pretty,

Do you judge by what you see?

If you look close, I think you'll find,

I'm made of more than seams.

When first I was created,

By founders known by all,

They taught me each their purpose

So that they could move on.

There's nothing hidden in your head

That you can hide from me,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwells the hero's heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are strong and true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Their cunning minds and silver tongues

Are known to all their ken.

So put me on! Don't hesitate!

And don't you dare forget,

Division is my purpose

But to divide is death."

The hall burst out in applause at the end of the hat's song. The Sorting Hat gave its equivalent of a bow, tilting its tip down slightly. When the noise again died down, McGonagall conjured a scroll with her wand and unrolled it.

"Abbot, Hannah!" She called out strongly. A young blond girl in the crowd of first years climbed the stairs to the stage and sat on the stool before McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop her head. There was a moment of pause before it called, "Hufflepuff!"

There was a rousing applause from the Hufflepuff table as Hannah departed the stage to take a seat with her house. Now that Harry was closer to them, he could see that the indistinct shapes by the tables were people. Not normal people, these floated and were opaque, but they were clearly human. Harry was going to ask Hermione what they were, but she was clearly very nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and biting her bottom lip.

"What are those?" he asked Ron instead.

"They're—" he began, before being interrupted by Hermione.

"You must be quiet." She said forcefully, "We can't be getting in trouble before we're even sorted."

Ron gave her a disgusted look. "You can't be serious. Are you really that much of a suck-up?"

Hermione turned a bright shade of pink and Ron turned back to Harry. "They're the House Ghosts." Pointing to each table in turn, he elaborated. "The Slytherin ghost is the Bloody Baron. Hufflepuff's is the Fat Friar, Ravenclaw's is the Grey Lady, and Gryffindor's is Nearly-Headless Nick."

Harry was about to ask how one became a ghost when Hermione looked at Ron and whispered acidically, "If you are quite done, can you focus on the Sorting?" She shot a look to Harry as well. It wasn't exactly a vicious look, but there was clearly a reprimand in her eyes.

Harry had never seen a look quite like that one. At least not directed at him. Her look wasn't one of anger, like he had become used to at the Dursleys, but of disappointment, as if Harry had fell short of meeting some standard she had expected him to easily achieve. Harry felt ashamed when she looked at him like that. Harry had always been made to feel ashamed for what he _was_ by the Dursleys. Hermione's look made him feel ashamed for something he'd done. "Sorry." Harry whispered before becoming quiet.

By the end of this exchange, several more students had been sorted into their houses, each receiving a loud roar of clapping and cheering from whatever house they had been sorted into. As Harry watched student after student sit on the chair and be sorted, he wondered if anyone had ever been refused by the Sorting Hat. He could picture McGonagall looking at him and telling him, "I'm sorry, you're just not good enough to attend Hogwarts." He had no idea what he would do if he approached that stage and was told to go home.

"Bones, Susan!" McGonagall called out. The young girl climbed the stage and sat in the stool while McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

"Ravenclaw!" The hat called out before the girl departed the stage.

Harry stared at the floor, only half-listening as a group of students he didn't know were sorted. Names and houses were called out with Harry taking only the slightest notice that anything was happening outside of his head. His palms were covered in sweat and he desperately hoped it wasn't possible to be rejected at this stage.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"Slytherin!"

Applause.

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"Gryffindor!"

Applause.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry jerked his head up at this, watching as Hermione rushed up the stage and sat in the stool for McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat on her head. She sat there for several moments. Time continued to pass and soon she had been on the stool for easily a minute, considerably longer than average. Harry had a moment of extreme worry in which he wondered if Hermione would be the one to be sent home. He imagined her face falling as McGonagall removed the hat from her head. He felt more than a little panicked at the thought, though he couldn't figure out why.

"Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat called. Harry's stomach untied itself from the knot it had worked itself into. From that point on, his nervousness disappeared. Somewhere in the process of his worry becoming focused on Hermione instead of himself, and then having that same worry disappear when she was placed in Gryffindor, his worry for himself had vanished.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Neville approached the stage with a shuffling gait. As he walked up the steps, Harry saw his hands shaking slightly. Almost immediately after the hat was placed upon his head it called out,

"Gryffindor!"

Neville's mouth broke into a great smile when the hat spoke and he walked to his table amid the cheers of his housemates.

"McLaggen, Cormack!" A young boy with curly, sandy-blond hair sat on the stool next.

"Slytherin!"

"Malfoy, Draco!"

If Neville's sorting had been quick, Draco's was almost a formality. The hat appeared to not even touch his head before shouting, "Slytherin!" Draco strutted off to his new house with a smug look on his face.

Although most of his nervousness was gone, Harry found that he still couldn't focus as person after person was sorted into their houses. He knew that this was vitally important to what a person would experience while at Hogwarts, but he couldn't keep himself interested.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called.

Throughout the sorting, the tables had become more and more raucous, calling out and clapping with each student gained. Harry had even seen two redheaded twins get up and dance a jig on their bench. But when his name was called, a silence fell upon the hall, and was soon broken with a cacophony of whispers.

"Did she say Potter?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

"Look, there he is!"

Harry ascended the stage, sat on the stool, and looked out at the crowd of eyes in front of him while McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Although he waited expectantly, nothing happened when the hat touched Harry's head. He was left looking into the eyes of Hogwarts.

He looked at hundreds of students, but there were only a handful he recognized. Draco sat with two large boys at the Slytherin table, looking at Harry with disdain. Ronald remained in the group of unsorted first years, muttering to himself as he half-watched Harry. Neville looked at Harry with an expression that Harry couldn't place, like a soldier waiting for orders. Lastly, Harry saw Hermione's face. She was staring at him with a great intensity, like one would study a machine that was broken. There were several emotions written across her face. Harry saw fear, worry, and a desperate hope. Their eyes locked and Harry heard a voice.

"Very interesting." The Sorting Hat whispered slowly in his ear. "I see much of you, but there are hidden depths to your character. You have been hurt, beaten, and enslaved, but you still have spirit. There is fear, but there is also fierceness. I see iron in you. Courage. You have the mind of a Ravenclaw, matched with the loyalty of a Gryffindor. You desire nothing so much as to prove to someone, anyone, that you are more than ordinary, that you are worth something. You have incredible talent, but your desires are much more telling. I could safely place you into any of the Houses and you would thrive. But you already know what you want, don't you?"

Harry still stared into Hermione's eyes. He nodded slightly, although he wore the object which spoke to him, so a nod was not the most logical of responses. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to find someone who cared about him. He wanted friendship. He thought of Neville and Ron, but his gaze stayed on Hermione. He wanted someone who viewed him as more than a servant, or a famous person. He wanted to be loved.

"Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat shouted to the crowd. It managed one last whisper before anyone had the chance for applause or McGonagall removed it from Harry's head. "People confuse what I do. I do not sort according to what you _are_, but according to what you could be. What you want to be. I hope you find it with her. Tell Dumbledore that I'd like a word with him."

And then the voice was gone, and the applause was violent. All of Gryffindor had exploded into cheers and chants. Harry saw Hermione screaming into her hands. The two redheaded twins began a chant of "We got Potter!" And Ron was screaming and gesticulating wildly, although he wasn't yet a Gryffindor himself.

Harry approached the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Neville and Hermione, the latter of which immediately said "Congratulations, Harry!"

"We've all gotten what we hoped." Neville said. "Now it's just up to Ron and we'll have a perfect streak. Hopefully he'll make it in Gryffindor."

The two redheaded twins were on the other side of the table and heard what Neville said. "You talking about Ron Weasley?"

Neville nodded.

The twins smiled. "No need to worry for him." One of them said. "None of us Weasleys has been placed anywhere but Gryffindor for three generations." The other finished.

"You're Ron's siblings?" Hermione asked.

"Indeed we are!" They said together. "Along with that fellow over there." They said, pointing at an older boy wearing what Harry knew to be a Prefect's badge from his readings. "His name's Percy, he's a bit of a pompous arse, but he's not too bad. We have two older brothers who've already graduated named Charlie and Bill, and a younger sister named Ginny who will be attending next year. Finally, I'm Fred, and this here is George, although he often asks that people call him Mrs. Annabeth, no one knows why."

"Helps me get in touch with my feminine side, doesn't it?" George responded. "Women want a man who's got a feel for their inner desires." He said with a lascivious eyebrow-waggle.

The young Gryffindors laughed at the antics of the twins while Dean Thomas was sorted into Hufflepuff and Harry thought to himself that he understood Malfoy's comment about the Weasleys breeding themselves into the ground much better now that he knew how many siblings Ron had. "So are you the brother that gave Ronald that spell to change his rat's coloring?" Hermione asked.

Fred and George lit up with grins. "Did he try it?"

"Yes, it was… ineffective."

The twins burst out laughing. "I can't believe he fell for it. I mean of course there _is_ musical magic like that, but the idea that changing an animal's color would require a full rhyming spell is quite priceless."

Then it was Ron's turn. He sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop his head. For the first time, the Sorting Hat said something to the entire hall that wasn't the name of a student's house.

"Another Weasley, eh?" A wave of laughter broke out from everyone, including the Weasley twins. "Gryffindor!"

The Weasley brothers were reunited as Ron sat next to Harry. "Congratulations on making it to Gryffindor, Ronald." George said formally. "Now remember that we may have to disown you if you embarrass us." Fred finished.

Ron chuckled quietly as a boy named Blaise Zabini was placed in Gryffindor and sat next to him on the bench before the Gryffindor table.

An old, grey-haired wizard now stood on the stage and gestured for the tables to quiet. "Welcome to Hogwarts! I hope for all our sakes that it will be an educational and exciting year! For those who don't know, I am Professor Dumbledore and I will be your Headmaster for the coming year! Now, before we eat, I will make a few announcements. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore looked at the Weasley twins as he said this, eyes flashing playfully.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. Now, I believe it is time we had eaten." The old man clapped his hands gently with a grandfatherly smile on his face. Suddenly food appeared on trays at every table in front of the students.

Piling food high onto his plate, Ron disappeared in a frenzy of eating. Harry was in shock. He had never been offered the opportunity to eat as much as he wanted. He had been well-fed at the Tonks, but he had still taken less than he would've sometimes wished because he didn't want to be a strain on them. He placed small portions of several items onto his plate. He was about to begin eating when Ron's older brother Percy approached.

"Harry Potter, so good to meet you. I'm Percy Weasley." He said, taking Harry's hand to shake it. "I'm so happy you're in Gryffindor, I'm sure you'll be a wonderful addition."

Harry was unsure of what to say, so he was relieved when Hermione broke in, "Are you a prefect?" She asked politely.

"Why yes I am." Percy said proudly. "How can I help you?"

As the pair began a spirited discussion about class schedules and content, Harry turned back to his food. He had been eating for a few minutes when he felt a presence, as if someone was watching him. He turned around and looked at the teacher's table. He recognized only a few of the teachers. McGonagall and Dumbledore sat near each other, eating and having genial conversation. Hagrid, though not a teacher, sat at the end of the teacher's tables and was talking with a one-armed man. Professor Quirrell sat morosely picking at his food next to a teacher with greasy black hair and a pointed nose.

The man with the black hair was staring directly at Harry and when Harry met his eyes he felt as if his insides were suddenly exposed. The man had a look of deep sadness as he looked away and the feeling dissipated. Looking back to his table, Harry asked Percy, "Who's that teacher with the black hair?"

"That's Professor Snape. He's the potions master." Percy replied matter-of-factly. "A right git, but he knows his business."

After everyone had finished eating and discussions had somewhat faded, Dumbledore again mounted the stage. "Before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" He said with a smile. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore. He flicked his wand and the words began to appear in the air. The school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everyone finished the song at different times, but the Weasley twins went out with a flare. As they imitated brains rotting, they each cast spells that made their faces look pallid and white, before slumping over as if dead. Dumbledore was clapping along with the students at their finish.

"Prefects, if you would, please lead all first years to their respective common rooms." Dumbledore called out.

Percy began to round up all of the Gryffindor first years when Harry remembered the Sorting Hat's words. Quickly darting to the stage, he climbed to stand behind the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry began when he reached the Headmaster, who had turned around, discussing something with a man who looked as if he might have some goblin blood in him.

Turning around, Dumbledore looked at Harry with twinkling eyes. "How may I help you?"

"The sorting hat told me to tell you that he wanted to have a word with you tonight."

"Did he really?" Dumbledore said with surprise. "Well then I'll just have to do that." Reaching out his hand, Dumbledore grasped Harry's hand and said. "My name is Albus Dumbledore."

"Harry Potter." Harry replied.

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Thank you for conveying the message in such a timely fashion. Now I believe it's time for you to be heading to your dormitories." Looking around for a moment, Dumbledore called, "Peeves."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered and a small man with dark eyes appeared to Dumbledore's left.

"Harry, this is Peeves. He is a poltergeist. Peeves, if you would be so kind as to escort Harry here to catch up with his house prefect, I would greatly appreciate it."

Peeves nodded quickly and saluted before taking off quickly toward the Great Hall's exit. Harry looked around for a moment, confused, before Dumbledore said, "Well it seems it's a race. Best be off, Harry."

Harry gave the headmaster a baffled expression before sprinting off to catch up with the poltergeist, reaching him just as he left the Great Hall. Peeves began telling Harry all sorts of lewd stories about finding students snogging and more throughout Hogwarts Castle. By the time they had caught up with the rest of the first years, Harry's face was crimson with embarrassment.

Seeing Peeves, Percy burst out. "What are you doing here Peeves?"

"Dumbledore told me to bring Harry to you." He said with a bow. "Now that that's done, prepare yourself!"

Then Peeves vanished again and Percy's robes were pulled up over his head, exposing his underwear and bare chest. "Peeves!" Percy called out fuming.

After everyone had calmed, Percy led them the rest of the way to the Gryffindor common room. "Here we are." He said as they arrived at a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Lion's den." said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. It was decorated in red and gold, with armchairs and sofas scattered here and there. At the far end there was a fireplace that sat between two staircases. The left all was entirely windowed, and looking out, Harry could see that they were several hundred feet off of the ground.

Percy directed the girls up the left staircase to their dormitory – Hermione shooting Harry a parting glance as she walked up them – and the boys through the right. Climbing the stairs for a few moments, Harry found his name on the door to a room on the right. Entering, he saw that there were five fourposters hung with red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up.

Tired, each of the boys prepared for sleep and lay in their beds.

" Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings.

"It was fantastic." Harry said, thinking to himself that he had well and truly escaped the Dursleys. He thought of the Sorting Hat's voice in his head.

"People confuse what I do. I do not sort according to what you _are_, but according to what you could be. What you want to be. I hope you find it with her."

Harry fell asleep thinking of finding friends and choosing his own path at Hogwarts.

**A/N: Chapter 9 complete! What did you guys think? Harry's a Gryffindor! I'm sorry if you dislike any of my choices! If you do, let me know! If you think they're fantastic, let me know! Please review and thank you again for reading!**

**Where were you when I was miss behavin'?**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Potions Master

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the last chapter! I'm so glad that all of you are reading! To those who are disappointed by Harry becoming a Gryffindor, I hope that in time you will come to appreciate the choice. Finally, I don't own Harry Potter.**

There was a long stone hallway with an intricately carved wooden door at its end. Harry stood at an intersection with the door in front of him and two hallways branching off to the left and right. Harry somehow knew that something horrible was beyond the door. The sight of it filled him with an incredible, earth-shaking fear. The hallway to the left was a comforting green color and Harry felt a warmth come over him, but the warm, comforting feeling held something dark beneath it, something sinister. He instinctively stepped backwards and pressed his back against the cold stone wall.

Looking to the right hallway, Harry felt ice reaching up toward him from behind and saw images of torture and violence. He saw a child lying dead in the middle of a street. He saw burning buildings. He saw a woman with long brown hair crying black tears as she held a dead man to her chest. Harry turned back to the door and found new detail in its inlay. An ornate face was staring at him with a forked tongue and slitted eyes. Around it were demons dancing amidst a fire.

Taking a beginning step forward, Harry approached the door. He knew that something horrible was behind it, but he also knew that the other paths would release it. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did. Placing his hands on the door, Harry pushed and it flew open. Inside, what he saw shocked him. There was a child with black hair lying on the floor, bathed in crimson blood. His arms were bent and broken into odd angles. His chest was collapsed, clearly having been shattered. Next to the body, Harry saw a dangerous-looking black dagger.

The small room had little in it beyond the body. There was a tall cabinet in the right corner of the room. A wooden table with various items scattered across it—a lock of blond hair, a vial full of clear liquid, and several other baubles—lay at the back of the room. To the right was an ivory Victorian dresser with a large mirror atop it.

Harry's eyes returned to the center of the room and he stepped forward to look at the boy more closely. As he did, the door slammed shut behind him. A shadow detached itself from a crevice and took on the outline of a man. It was indistinct, but clearly human. The dead boy's eyes flew open. _How is he alive?_ Harry thought to himself. The boy was so covered in crimson blood that it was difficult to recognize him. His jaw was clearly out of place. His nose was broken. His eyes fluttered around furiously and he shook as he tried to move broken limbs. He groaned out his fear, his panic, his mindless terror. It was the most frightening sound Harry had ever heard. Then the boy's eyes met his.

Harry knew those eyes. The familiar, pure bright green color. They were his own.

"Yes, Harry." The voice slid down Harry's spine and sunk into his body, freezing him with fear. "You've already lost. You should never have come here." The voice hissed.

Harry tried to speak, but was so utterly terrified that he couldn't summon a word to his lips.

"Harry, dear Harry, How could you hope to succeed in this world? You are nothing. You are unwanted. Your relatives don't want you. You have no friends. Everything you are, I gave to you. Yet you had the audacity to come here. This is what you are." The shadow gestured to the bloodied boy with his last words. Harry watched the shadow become more and more corporeal as he stood. Starting as a vague darkness, there was color and distinction coming into the being. Red eyes, a flat, snakelike face. Harry saw its jaw move.

"You will die here, and no one will care. Your death will usher in an era of destruction." The images from the right hallway sprang back to Harry's mind and he tried to run, but remained paralyzed. The man laughed. "Yes, yes. Everything you saw is to come. Your death will be the catalyst for revolution. The world will finally be pure. I ask you kindly; let it happen."

Taking a few steps forward, the man reached down slowly to grip the knife and the bloody, broken Harry's eyes stared at him. "These are your final moments; enjoy the purity of your fear. Never will you reach this plane again." Lifting the knife, the man lazily dragged it down from the body's mouth toward its chest.

And Harry's mind suddenly became clear. He knew that that what the man said was true. He saw the images of terror from before, but the terror wasn't for himself anymore. Harry no longer laid claim to it. He was fearful for all of those within the images. If he died each of them would die as well. Looking at the man, Harry knew what he had to do.

As the man lifted the dagger in his hands, rearing back like a snake before it strikes, Harry launched himself forward. The man plunged the dagger down and it imbedded itself deeply into Harry's left shoulder. He felt an obscene pain as the dagger ground against his bones. The man looked shocked for a brief moment before Harry shoved him backward. Grasping the hilt of the dagger firmly, Harry withdrew it from his shoulder with a strangled yelp.

"How?" the man muttered in confusion. "H-how did you break it?"

Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but gave the question no consideration. The man rose up and produced a wand, seemingly from nowhere. He pointed it at Harry and began to mutter a spell, as Harry jumped forward. Harry sheathed the dagger in the man's chest before withdrawing it and burying it again. He repeated this over and over, blood spraying wildly with each thrust. The man became less distinct moment by moment until finally, he was gone.

Harry looked down to himself on the floor. But the bloodied, broken Harry was gone. Looking up, Harry saw himself in the mirror. He was covered in brown, dirty-looking blood from the top of his head down to his feet. Harry wretched at the disgusting sight. He looked back to the mirror. The bloody dagger was still in his hand, and he saw his own eyes staring back at him, but not the same. There was still a bright green ring at the edge of his iris, but now, closest to the black dot of his pupil, there was a deep, dark ring of green, verging on black.

Harry glanced at the knife he had just killed with, then back to the mirror. The broken Harry was there, next to him. A shattered femur poked through the skin of his leg. His chest was concave. The broken parts of him were plainly visible. But he smiled. The two Harrys' eyes met, and the broken one smiled at the sight of the murderer.

Harry awoke in a cold sweat and heard shouting. Gasping, he curled into a ball and hoped to escape the brunt of whatever beating had been intended for him. When no attack came immediately, Harry remembered where he was. He opened his eyes and was greeted by red curtains. Opening the curtains, Harry found that the shouting most likely came from Neville, who was sprawled on the floor with his legs tangled in the curtains from his fourposter.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, getting up and crossing the room to help extricate Neville from his predicament.

"I'm fine." Neville said with embarrassment. "Just rolled out of bed."

Appearing from behind his curtains Ron fixed Neville and Harry with a glare. "Was the shouting absolutely necessary?" He asked angrily. Neville dropped his head and muttered some sort of unintelligible apology.

"It was an accident, Ron." Harry said, annoyed at the boy's annoyance.

Ron gave a sheepish look and began to dress without speaking. Seamus and Blaise appeared from their respective beds, and as the boys prepared for breakfast Seamus blathered on about a dream he had had where a giant snake had swallowed Hogwarts castle whole. Harry thought on his own dream, shivering as he remembered the voice that had whispered horrors to him. He looked down at his body and remembered the broken Harry he had seen before.

Harry remained deep in thought all the way down to the Great Hall. When he finally sat to eat, he noticed people all across the room staring at him while they whispered conversation with their neighbors. Ignoring their looks, Harry helped himself to a bowl of honeyed porridge as Ron sat down across from him.

"Sleep well?" Ron asked politely.

"Not so much, I had a strange dream."

"Strange as Seamus's?" Ron questioned. "It's hard to beat the castle being swallowed by a snake."

"Stranger." Harry said solemnly, remembering the feeling of the knife grating at his bones. "I'd rather not talk about it. What of you? Any dreams?"

"No, I mostly just couldn't sleep because I was nervous about today. We've got Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts today. I've heard Snape is horrible. Don't know much about the Dark Arts teacher. What's his name, Professor Squirrel?"

"Quirrell." Harry corrected, remembering the nervous man he had met with Hagrid at Diagon Alley.

"All the same, it's going to be an interesting day."

Suddenly, dozens of owls came swooping into the great hall, dropping letters and parcels to various students, and even the teachers.

Harry looked up in shock. Ron saw his confused look. "It's the mail, Harry. Comes every morning."

As Harry watched the owls dropping their packages, he caught sight of familiar white feathers. Hedwig circled closer to him and landed neatly on the table, sticking out her leg for Harry to remove a letter.

"Hedwig!" Harry said happily. "So you made it here, and even brought me a letter?" The owl hooted an affirmative as Harry untied the letter. It read:

"Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid"

Harry flipped the note over and scribbled a hasty yes before reattaching it to Hedwig's leg and asking her to deliver it to Hagrid. Just as she was flapping away, a disheveled-looking Hermione burst into the great hall, red-faced. She strode quickly to the Gryffindor table and sat down a dozen feet from Harry and Ron, quickly piling food onto her plate.

Harry was about to leave to ask Hermione what was wrong when he saw Neville enter the Great Hall, followed closely by Draco and his two large friends. They were taunting Neville, calling him a squib and saying he was a waste of a wizard, and his face was the color of a pomegranate. As he approached the Gryffindor table, the boys dropped back and parted from him. Harry looked at the clearly-shaken boy and said to him, "I'm sorry about what they said. It's not true you know."

"But it is true, Harry." Neville insisted. "I didn't show any magic until I was nine. Nine!"

"So what?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Everyone knows that the later you start doing magic the weaker your magic is. Malfoy started when he was two. Among the pureblood families, that puts him at such a higher rank than me, I can't even explain."

"Neville," Harry said softly. "Why does it matter what people think? I'm sure that if you work at it, you'll be able to do anything that Malfoy can do."

Ron, hearing most of the conversation, interjected. "Yeah, I'm sure that the age of manifestation doesn't matter. My older brother Charlie didn't do magic until he was nearly seven, and he's an amazing wizard."

_Age of manifestation?_ Harry thought, surprised that Ron knew what the terms meant. He thought that perhaps he had misjudged the redheaded boy when an older Gryffindor student broke in from across the table. "Don't be daft, Weasley. I'm sure your parents just didn't realize when he _did _manifest. Everyone knows the Weasleys might as well be muggleborns for all they understand magic. You're lucky you're even allowed to come to Hogwarts with the way your father acts about muggles." He stood up from the table with the end of this statement and walked away while Ron's face turned redder than Neville's.

"What was that about?" Harry asked quietly.

"My dad, he likes muggle things." Ron bit off the words. "Hasn't given our family the greatest reputation recently."

Harry didn't know what to say, and so he remained quiet. He didn't understand why a man's fondness for muggle things would hurt his family's reputation, as he knew that many muggle things were quite useful. He was about to say so to Ron, when Neville muttered, "It's time for Potions."

Ron and Neville stood and left the table, while Harry took the time to gather his books up before following. Hermione's distress forgotten, Harry slowly made his way down to the dungeons using a map that proved less than helpful, considering that several stairways it listed led in different directions than the map said. He thought he had found the door, when in fact he had only found a fake door that stood in a lower corridor of the castle. After nearly a half-hour of searching, Harry found himself stumbling into the Potions room.

Scattered across the room were over a dozen square stone tables, each with four seats placed around them and four cauldron-holding apparatuses with small fires fizzling at their base. Many of the seats had already been taken with cauldrons set in place atop fires. Harry saw no open seats near anyone he knew, so he sat himself at an empty table in the back of the classroom and began withdrawing his cauldron from its bag, placing it as he saw the others had, above the almost-absent fire.

He was withdrawing his potions book and other materials for the class when Hermione stalked into the dungeon. She appraised the room and seemed relieved when she saw Harry sitting at a table by himself. She took the seat next to him without saying anything and began preparing her cauldron similarly. Looking at the large clock on the wall, Harry saw that it was almost time for class to have begun, and neither Ron nor Neville had apparently arrived yet.

Looking around the room, Harry noticed that the teacher had not yet arrived and hoped that Neville and Ron might be able to beat him to the classroom. His hopes were dashed, however, when the greasy-haired potions teacher came striding into the dungeon, black cloak billowing behind him.

"All wands should be put away. There will be no foolishness in this class. I understand that many of you may be incapable of appreciating the fine art of potions-making, as it requires no fantastical wand-waving. A true potions-master may, however, do more than many a spellcaster. With the proper application of knowledge, one can bottle luck, brew fame, and become a master of death."

It was at this entirely inopportune moment that Neville and Ron stumbled into the potions classroom, and on seeing the teacher at the front of the class, both rushed to sit at the closest open table, Harry and Hermione's.

The teacher's sharp eyes followed the pair and he said, "I will inform you that class has already started, and you have interrupted me." He said viciously. "Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Ron looked outraged, while Neville simply hung his head in shame. Hermione and Harry kept their eyes on the teacher, neither wanting to risk appearing to commiserate with the two across from them, having heard that their teacher had a habit of punishing anyone _near_ a troublemaker.

"As I was saying, there is a great deal of nuance and structure that is necessary for a properly made potion. I will attempt to inform those of you who have the _slightest_ talent of these rules. My name is Severus Snape."

After this speech, he began reading names from a roster of students, each student acknowledging their presence with a chorus of "Present!". When he spoke Harry's name, the teacher paused and looked up at Harry with the same strange look his face had held when he first saw him.

"It appears," he said slowly. "That we have a celebrity in our class. This does not give reason for special treatment or dawdling." He looked to Ronald who idly toyed with a pencil across from Harry.

He continued down the list without any further incident, and Harry began his first potions class. They were attempting to brew a potion that would cure boils, a simple concoction that would provide little challenge to anyone who had had to follow a cooking recipe.

"That git!" Ron said angrily as he threw ingredients into his cauldron. "He took twenty points away from me and Neville, all because a staircase changed directions while we were still on it! He always favors his precious Slytherins."

"Well I quite think you deserved what you got." Hermione said. "Really, showing up late on your first day? Why didn't you leave earlier so you would be sure to arrive on time?"

"Well, little miss know-it-all," Ron said with an acid tongue. "We did leave early, this castle just turned us around so much that we couldn't find our way down here."

"I told you we should've used the map." Neville said as he lazily stirred his potion, looking gloomy.

"You didn't even use the map?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Of course you didn't get here on time then. Why I can't believe that you—"

"I don't need a muggleborn lecturing me on how to act at Hogwarts." Ronald cut her off. "I can manage just fine without your input."

Hermione looked down and Harry saw tears in her eyes. He was about to tell Ron off for what he had said when Neville's cauldron exploded, sending potion flying across the table to strike them in various places.

Slowly walking over to survey the damage, Snape said, "It seems that you inverted the ingredient list before making this. Ten points from Gryffindor for sheer thickheadedness." As he spoke, angry red boils appeared across Neville's face where the potion had landed, as well as on the rest of their hands. "Each of you should go to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to mend this mess."

Looking at the three still-full cauldrons, Snape inspected them slowly. "Full points to you two." He said, gesturing to Harry and Hermione. "But Mr. Weasley here has somehow managed to turn his potion orange instead of the pink color it should be. Half points."

Ron's face fell at Snape's declaration and Harry could almost see the boy's angry thoughts written across his face. Each of their potions was vanished by Snape and they gathered their potions supplies before heading to the hospital wing. Hermione led the way with Ron begrudgingly following after he had declared that the boils on his hands hurt too bad for him to withdraw his map.

They entered the wing and within minutes Madam Pomfrey had their boils disappeared. "Just be careful next time." She said to Neville in a grandmotherly tone. "Professor Snape is prone to remember all of a student's mistakes, and if he takes to disliking you, well he never quite stops." Neville nodded along, an expression of hopelessness on his face.

Hermione and Harry kept their silence, both seeming to be happy with their thoughts as their companions. They departed the hospital wing as a group, breaking off to go their separate ways immediately after exiting. Harry remembered Ron's words about Hermione being a muggleborn. It reminded him of how he had been treated at the Dursleys, like there was something wrong with him that he couldn't control. As he made his way up to the Gryffindor common room, the thought occurred to Harry that he might as well have been muggleborn, considering that he was raised by resolved to himself that he would confront Ron about his treatment of Hermione the next day.

Upon entering the common room, many of the older students who hadn't had the opportunity to speak to Harry after the sorting approached him and introduced themselves. He met a friend of Fred and George's named Lee Jordan. He met several members of the Gryffindor quidditch team, including the captain Oliver Wood who, from what Harry had heard, was one of the best keepers Hogwarts had seen in many years. He met person after person, but in all of his meeting, Harry stayed quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself, knowing that though he had escaped the Dursleys, he was still a freak. He was the Boy-Who-Lived.

**A/N: That's chapter 10 for you! What did you think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Tell me your thoughts on Harry's dream! I hope to have another chapter to upload in the next couple days. Thank you for reading!**

**Where were you when I was in between 4****th**** and 2****nd**** street?**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Falling with Style

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who've read and reviewed! It's great to see people actually caring about my work! I hope you guys like the next chapter! **

**Queen of nerds77: It's meant to be purposefully ambiguous, but no. Harry hasn't been possessed.**

**I don't own Harry Potter!**

The next morning, Harry walked with purpose down to the Great Hall. He was going to confront Ron about the things he had said to Hermione. He had everything planned out. He had chosen his words, and planned on talking to Ron after breakfast. But when he entered the Great Hall, Harry encountered quite the sight. Parading back and forth between the tables were several groups of students in the various Hogwarts House colors. Each group was made up of between four and six students, two of which held large bats. One student from each group was holding a scroll into the air as the two students with bats hit enchanted balls toward anyone who came close to their scroll.

"Quidditch sign-ups!" The students with the scrolls shouted. "If you'd like to play, just come and sign your name."

A third-year Gryffindor attempted to reach the scroll to sign his name and was swatted away by one of the flying enchanted balls, batted by a Weasley twin. There were six students in the Gryffindor group and the third year seemed to be one of perhaps a dozen students attempting to get to the sheet. Similar scenes played out across the hall, with students being pelted as they attempted to reach their House's sign-up sheets.

Sitting down next to Ron, Harry asked, "What's Quidditch?"

"You don't know what Quidditch is?" Ron asked. "It's the greatest sport ever. Wizards play it across the world!"

"How does it work?"

"Well first, you have to have brooms." Ron started. "Each player—"

"Don't ask Ickle Ronniekins about Quidditch!" Fred yelled over to Harry.

"Best ask the professionals!" George continued. "Ronald thinks he knows how Quidditch works, but you don't know a thing until you've actually played!" As he spoke, George batted one of the flying balls into the chest of a fifth-year who wanted to sign up.

"Shut up!" Ron shouted at his brothers. "You both know that I'm already a better Keeper than either of you!"

"Ooh, little Ron's letting his temper get to him!" George laughed.

"Next thing we know he'll accidentally transfigure something into a spider!" said Fred. Jumping up onto the table, George transfigured one of the balls that was speeding toward him through the air into a stuffed spider and sprang back in mock fear as it crashed into him, screaming as he plummeted off the side of the table and into Fred's arms.

"That's not funny!" Ron called out as Fred changed the ball back. "You're just jealous because I'm smarter than you!"

"Not smart enough to know a fake spell when we give it to you!" Fred called out gleefully.

Harry watched as the argument devolved into childish insults being thrown back and forth between the twins and Ron, and he started to understand something. Looking at Ron's angry, red face, Harry realized that this was a sort of defense for Ron. Growing up as the youngest of six brothers, Ron had learned to shield himself with insults and yelling when he was angry or hurt. He didn't really mean the things he said.

Harry was debating how he should talk to Ron about what he'd said to Hermione when he felt contact with his shoulder. Jerking forward, Harry rolled off of the bench he'd been sitting on and fell backwards onto the ground. He looked up from the floor with raised hands, pointing his wand at his attacker.

Standing in front of Harry was none other than Draco Malfoy, lips curled in a perplexed grin.

"Scared, Potter? Guess you should be scared of us real wizards. Call yourself a pureblood, but I always see you sitting with the blood-traitor and the squib! You even defend mudbloods!" Draco shouted, clearly overjoyed at Harry's reaction. "Just thought I'd let you know that, though I was confused at first, I've realized where you really belong. Down with the pigs and the rats." He gestured at Ron as he said this, before walking back to the Slytherin table and laughing.

Given the cacophony being created by the Quidditch Sign-up Sheets, only the students immediately around Harry heard what had been said. Most were quiet, but several students laughed at Malfoy's humiliating words while Harry remained on the floor.

"What's a mudblood?" Harry asked quietly after he had regained his seat.

"It's an insult to someone who's muggleborn. Most of the pureblooded families believe that if you're muggleborn, you're not as good as them and you don't deserve to have magic. Mudblood means dirty blood."

"I see." Harry said, contemplating the term. There was a long pause before Ron chose to speak.

"Why'd you jump like that?" He asked Harry cautiously.

"No reason." Harry replied with feigned nonchalance. "I just thought he might be up to something." He thought that was as good an excuse as any, as it seemed likely that Malfoy _would_ try to hurt him somehow. He just didn't realize that words had long ago ceased to have any effect.

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Harry continued to grow more accustomed to Hogwarts as his week there progressed. Each of his classes was very different from the last, and the different teachers had each had different teaching styles. McGonagall's Transfiguration class was very focused on understanding the theory and method behind the magic being done. Flitwick taught Charms from a more feeling-based perspective, almost as if one was finding their own way to do the spell. Defense Against the Dark Arts, the class that Harry had been the most excited for, turned out to be a rather bland class. Professor Quirrell was constantly stuttering through their lesson and hadn't actually taught anything new for their first class.

As for Harry's other classes, he hadn't yet attended his Herbology class, but Neville had been particularly excited for them to learn about plants. Harry thought, personally, that History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, was undoubtedly the most boring thing that he had ever experienced. The late professor had died one day, and simply continued showing up to teach the class. He always spoke in the same monotonous drone that made everything he lectured on seem more boring than brushing one's teeth.

Harry was sitting in the library by himself reading another excerpt from his mother's diary in his free time between that day's History of Magic lesson and the Flying lesson to be held that afternoon. He read:

_October 1__st__, 1971_

_I hate it here. I wish I could go home. I miss Tunie and I don't have any friends. The Prince is off in Slytherin while I'm here with a bunch of rude Gryffindor boys. Everyone stays away from me because I'm muggleborn. They treat me so badly. Last night, the girls in my dorm enchanted my curtains so I couldn't get out of bed until I burned them, and then Professor McGonagall gave me detention for destroying them! I don't know what to do. I wish I was still with my parents._

_With regret,_

_Lily Evans_

Written in the darker, cleaner script that Harry had come to know as being indicative of a note added by his mother much more recently than the diary's initial entry was a message.

_Harry, I know you're going to be reading this and I don't want you to have the wrong idea. Hogwarts is an amazing place and by the end of my stay I truly viewed it as a home, but when I first arrived I only saw the dark things, and I was upset about losing my sister as a friend. Once I got up the nerve to actually be myself and I stopped listening to what people said about muggleborns, everything became much easier. All I really needed was to find some friends who would be there for me. I'm sure that you will find some of your own._

After having read both the diary entry and the message, Harry came to the conclusion that he needed to make more of an effort to make friends. He had been missing Tonks quite a lot and had made little attempt in the past days to become closer to anyone. As he became familiar with the prejudices and misjudgments of the students around him, Harry had almost wanted to give up on them for being so close-minded. The only person he had had much contact with over the past days were Ron and Neville, and then only because they actively sought him out. Hermione, the one person he felt he had some sort of genuine connection with, had been acting strangely and Harry had rarely seen more than a glimpse of her in the previous days.

Making a decision that he needed to be more proactive, Harry gathered up his mother's diary and set out to find one of them, he left the library and immediately came upon Ron making his was from the Great Hall out to the castle grounds.

"Hello!" Harry said as Ron approached.

"Oh, hi Harry. How're you?"

"I'm doing well." Harry said, realizing he had nothing in particular to talk about.

"Are you ready for today's flying lesson? It's going to be your first time on a broom, right?"

Harry nodded. "Bit nervous I'll mess it up, but I'm really excited to try it anyway." He finished with a smile..

Harry and Ron continued out onto the grounds and chatted about classes, Ron complaining loudly about how boring Professor Binns was and how he couldn't stand Professor Snape. Harry laughed along, commenting at the appropriate times to lubricate their conversation. They remained like this for quite a while, sitting on the lush, green grounds as Harry idly stroked through the pages of his mother's diary.

"What is that?" Ron asked, gesturing toward the book.

"It's a diary. It belonged to my mother." Harry said softly. "I never got to meet her, but she left all these notes in here for me to get to know her." He clutched the book closely. "It helps make it seem like she's here with me."

Ron nodded, clearly uncomfortable, and they remained silent until Ron declared that it was time they headed to their flying lesson. Harry and Ronald were walking down from Gryffindor Tower to the Quidditch Pitch where their Flying Lesson was being held and Ron had renewed his loud complaints about Binns' inability to make even great wizarding battles seem interesting. As they exited the castle, Harry saw Hermione walking with swift strides not too far ahead of them.

"Hermione!" He called out. Harry had hoped to find her soon so that he could talk to her about classes. Turning around, Hermione looked Harry in the eye and he saw her expression fall.

"Alright, what is it?" Hermione asked irritably once Harry and Ron had closed the distance.

Confused, Harry paused for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He finally said.

"I am doing just fine, thank you very much." Hermione said sarcastically and turned as if to walk away.

"What is your problem?!" Ron shouted at her.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked Ron.

"You're constantly being a rude little know-it-all! Every class you sit in your chair with your hand raised as if the world's going to end if you can't answer a question! Then you have the nerve to be rude when anyone is crazy enough to talk to you!" Harry saw something in Hermione's eyes that he couldn't quite place and watched her stalk away.

"Was that really necessary, Ron?"

"She was being absolutely mental!" Ron said in exasperation. "You just tried to talk to her and she bites your head off!"

"Well I think it hurts her feelings when you say things like that."

"And she deserves it!" Ron shouted. "She's always trying to one-up everyone. It's not attractive." Ron grimaced after he said this and looked down.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I sound like my mother." Ron said with a frown. Then in an imitation of a woman's voice, "He's too needy, it's not attractive. She's too worried about her appearance, it's not attractive." He shook his head. "She always says that, and now it's infecting me!"

Harry laughed and they continued down toward the Quidditch Pitch to the soundtrack of Ron's muttering about his family.

When they arrived at the pitch, Ron and Harry walked to join the small crowd of students gathered around Madam Hooch. She was an older woman, with short grey hair and her lined face was screwed into a stern expression. The green grass of the pitch bore marks from various quidditch-related abuses. There were deep gouges in the earth in lines from riders who had fallen off their broomsticks. In some places, there were dents where round balls had clearly smashed into the earth.

The Gryffindors' first flying lesson was to be shared with the Slytherins. The rivalry between the two houses always created a tension for one to outperform the other. Harry watched the students line up near two rows of brooms lying on the ground, facing off, almost as if in a duel.

"Alright!" Madam Hooch shouted, calling them to attention. "This will be your first flying lesson of the term. Each of you stand next to a broom, hold out your hand, and command it into your hand. The brooms have magical cores, so they will respond to your magic. Just hold your hand out and say 'Up!'"

Each of them stood next to brooms and called them with their magic. Almost half the class was able to achieve this in one try, whereas the other students took multiple tries to call their brooms into their hands.

"Alright, now that you have your brooms I want you to mount them and kick off! Hold your broom even with the ground and you will hover. Do not attempt any flying just yet! First, you have to become familiar with hovering."

Harry swept his leg over his broom and kicked lightly off the ground into a hover. He held the broom steadily and was able to hover without problem. Looking around, he saw that many of the students, including Ron and Draco, were hovering with ease, but some, like Hermione, were rocking back and forth, causing their brooms to lead them into the air and dive in small, parabolic waves.

Madam Hooch continued bellowing out instructions. "No one should be attempting to go anywhere yet. Just become familiar with the balancing act of remaining on the broom. After you become more comfortable we will move forward to the actual flying." Harry felt particularly at ease, finding no difficulty in the task of remaining on the broom.

Watching Hermione's nervous rocking, Harry saw a young Slytherin boy across from her begin to correct her. Although he couldn't hear exactly what the boy said, he watched the boy fly over to her and begin roughly moving her hands and pushing on her shoulder. Hermione lost her balance as the boy attempted to aid her and she leaned forward much too far. Harry watched in stunned silence as both she and the boy who still gripped her broomstick were propelled forward at high speed for a dozen feet before the front of her broomstick hit the ground, causing both of them to be thrown violently to the ground.

Speeding over, Madam Hooch made an inspection of the situation. Harry leaned forward and brought his broom over to the scene in a quick rush. "Is everything okay?" He asked Madam Hooch.

"Everything will be fine, Harry." Madam Hooch said irritably. "The girl has a broken wrist and this fool boy has knocked himself into a good concussion. I'll need to take the pair of them to the hospital wing. It always seems to happen this way. Go back to the others and tell them I said not to fly anywhere, Harry." When she had finished speaking, Madam Hooch lifted Hermione and the boy with magic and walked to the front gate of the castle.

Harry turned around and flew slowly back to the group. "Madam Hooch said not to go anywhere!" He said to them all before noticing that the Slytherins had formed into a large group, hovering around one Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be monologuing from a book he held in front of him with one hand, holding his broom with the other.

"— I couldn't believe his nerve, calling me a mudblood today! Me! His best friend since he was a child! His _Lily_ of the field!" Draco paused to let the laughter of his fellow students ring out. Harry realized suddenly that the book Draco was holding was none other than his mother's diary. Searching his robes quickly to be sure he wasn't mistaken, Harry found that the diary was indeed missing. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he flew over to Hermione. "Well I'll have him know that I'd rather be with that git James—"

"Give that back to me, Malfoy!" Harry shouted.

"Oh, does little Potter want his mommy's precious diary back?" Malfoy jeered into Harry's face.

"Come off it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted from behind Harry. "Give him back his book."

"Yeah!" Neville chorused weakly. Harry was shocked that either boy had stood up for him and a warm feeling that seemed the reverse of feeling guilty filled him up.

"Oh, Potter wants to read more about how his mom wasn't just a mudblood, she was a filthy slut!" Malfoy paused and flipped to a later page to read again from the book. "I was talking to him today and I felt so turned on I couldn't believe it. I mean he used to just make me sick, but something's changed in him this year. Anyway I excused myself immediately so that—"

"Shut up!" Harry screamed at Malfoy as the boys around him howled in laughter. "Give it back Malfoy or I'll hurt you!"

"What, you think I'm afraid of a flinching little fool like you? You were so scared in the Great Hall that you fell out of your chair just from me touching you! Leave alone that I'm sure you've never even been on a broom. In fact, if you can catch me, you can have it!" Malfoy grinned at the last and spun his broom around, taking off across the Quidditch Pitch.

Harry looked at Malfoy flying away as Neville muttered, "But we're supposed to stay here."

Seeing Malfoy streaking away with _his_ book filled Harry with rage and he shot off after the blond boy. There were cheers and scattered applause as the student's watched the show. Malfoy swung his broom to the right and the left, up and down, and looped around the Quidditch goalposts in an attempt to shake Harry off of his tail. Harry kept up with him move for move, his only goal to catch Malfoy so he could get his mother's diary back.

Draco came out of a sharp turn and looked back with a smile on his face, only to have it drop away when he saw that Harry still followed closely behind him. Reaching one hand out, Harry grasped the tail of Malfoy's broom and pulled, attempting to slow him down. Malfoy jerked to a stop and Harry nearly crashed into him at this.

"Fine," Malfoy said, panting. "I told you you could have it." Then he grinned with evil pleasure as he heaved his arm back with the book in it and said, "Catch it if you can." Then he let the book fly, throwing it with all his might across the Quidditch Pitch.

Harry took off like a bolt, racing to try and keep the book from being destroyed. His father had enchanted the book to hold more pages than it should, and if it was destroyed, the enchantment would be destroyed as well, meaning Harry would never get to read what his mother had written for him. He pressed the worn school broom as fast as he could, trying to force his magic into the brooms core to make it work better.

He felt a tentative connection with the broom and gained a bit of speed, but now the book had reached the apex of its curve and it was falling rapidly. Harry pointed his broom downward, trying to cut off the book at an angle, hoping to reach the ground faster. He was in a steep dive, pushing the broom to go faster than it had ever gone before with his eyes locked on the freefalling book. The ground rose beneath him and Harry knew that if he hit the ground at this speed he would easily come away with a dozen broken bones.

Harry was fifty feet from the ground, then thirty, then twenty, he reached his hand out to grasp the book, locked his fingers around it, grasped it to his chest, and pulled from the dive with bare inches to spare. However, the strain proved to be too much for the broom and its core died, falling from under Harry and leaving him to plummet into the ground at breakneck speed.

Harry's right hip connected with the ground first, and he felt his whole body whip down into the ground as the friction slowed him, ending with a massive crack as his head struck hard. He lost much of his awareness after that and only knew that he was flipping through the air in some manner, repeatedly colliding with the hard earth.

Then he was lying still in the dirt. Motion had ceased. His chest hurt. When Harry tried to breathe, it felt as if he had again broken a rib or three. His left arm was bent at an odd angle underneath his back and though it was numb Harry was sure it was broken. Harry tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. He realized that his glasses would obviously be broken. He still clutched his mother's book to his chest with his right arm.

The indistinct faces of those crouched above him muttered things that Harry couldn't quite make sense of in his befuddled state. "It's okay, I got it." He said, though his abdomen strongly protested his speaking with a sharp pain. The mutterings became louder when he spoke and he repeated, "I got the book, it's ok." before blacking out.

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Harry awoke in a hospital room. He had had a lovely dream of speaking with his mother, although she had lectured him that he needed to be safer so as to avoid dying in his first year. He chuckled at his remembrance. Looking around, Harry found his glasses sitting on top of a nightstand to his left. He quickly placed them on and the world came into focus. Looking down at himself, Harry saw that his mother's book had been placed at the foot of his bed.

He tentatively moved his left arm, but felt no pain. Breathing didn't seem to be causing him pain either. He tried to speak. "Hello?" he said to the empty room. "Is anyone there?"

Immediately the middle-aged Madam Pomfrey appeared from a doorway in the back of the room clothed in grey robes.

"You're awake!" She said happily. "Well that seems to be a much faster recovery than I had hoped for. You took quite a turn out there, boy." She said in admonishment. "Wait here a moment, Madam Hooch wants to speak with you and after that you will have some visitors."

The woman bustled from the room and out of sight, leaving Harry to think about what trouble he might be in with Madam Hooch for flying off unadvised. He knew that it was Malfoy's fault, but he also knew that teachers and adults weren't concerned with fairness. He thought bleakly of how he would most likely be expelled as he waited.

After several minutes, Madam Pomfrey reappeared with the Flying instructor in tow. "You may speak with him." She said sternly. "But try not to agitate him, he seems to have awoken rather quickly and I'd like to check him over to be sure he's fully healed."

Madam Hooch nodded, then stared at Pomfrey until the healer walked off to complete some task away from Harry's bed. "Harry, tell me exactly what you did yesterday on the pitch."

"Yesterday?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Yes, Harry, you stayed here in the hospital last night so that your bones could be healed. Even with Madam Pomfrey's skill, we didn't expect you to be awake until tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. Harry realized suddenly that that meant he had missed his meeting with Hagrid while he was in the hospital and groaned.

Hooch nodded along before looking Harry in the eye. "Now, tell me Harry, what happened?"

"Well first Malfoy took my book and—"

"Not that." The Flying instructor said quickly. "I already know all of that from your fellow students. Malfoy took the book, you chased him, he threw it, you crashed. What I want to know is how did you know how to fly the broom, and what did you do to make it as fast as it was?"

Harry was shocked. No questions about what had happened? Did that mean that Harry might've already been expelled while he was still asleep. "Do I have to go home?" he blurted out in panic.

"What?" Madam Hooch seemed completely caught off guard by the question. "Why would you be going home?"

"Because I flew away. I didn't listen."

Madam Hooch's features softened and he saw the now-familiar look of someone who was realizing that Harry Potter was not what they expected. "No, you will not be sent home. Malfoy was given a detention for taking your property, and though I understand what you did, I will advise you to remember that your body is more important than any book."

"It was my mother's." Harry said. Again, the look of realization on Hooch's face.

"Well I didn't know that." She said softly. "Either way, no one will be punishing you Harry. Now will you please explain what you did? I looked at the broom you were using and it has never been particularly fast, and you made it look like a competition-level broom yesterday, at least until you crashed. How did you know how to fly at all?"

"I don't know, it just felt… natural. Like something I'd known how to do, but forgot until I got on it. I didn't think about it." Harry shrugged. "As for the speed, I tried to make it faster with magic. I pushed my magic into it like I do with my wand, and it sped up for me."

Madam Hooch nodded, as if expecting the answer. "Well, Harry, as impressive as that is, for it is quite difficult to do, you're lucky it didn't give out sooner. Brooms can be affected with magic like that, but in an older broom, or one that's not incredibly well-made, it will often cause the core to die completely when it feels foreign magic. If that had happened sooner, you would have plummeted out of the sky and most likely died."

She met Harry's eyes again. "That being said, your control of that broom was marvelous for someone who's never ridden a broom. I suggest you rest up, you have a big day tomorrow."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor is looking for a new Seeker for their quidditch team. I got your name on the list." Madam Hooch smiled. "Tryouts are tomorrow at noon."

**A/N: Chapter 11 is finally done! Hope you guys enjoy it! Please review and let me know what you thought, and again, thank you so much for reading!**

**Where were you when I was the terrible secret?**


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